Saying Goodbye and Finding Lungs
My family tells me they were called in to say their goodbyes to me. I have no memory of this. I’m not sure if this happened in the local ICU or at the transplant hospital. I have memories of asking my parents if I could let go three different times. I’m not sure how I managed to speak at all. I knew they would say that I couldn’t give up, and that I had to hold on. I needed to hear this. I needed to know they still believed there was hope, and that they weren’t ready to let me go. I clung to this and to the fact that my sister was pregnant and I desperately wanted to be alive to meet my newest nephew. I also remember asking to be placed on the ventilator, at least two times, signaling to the staff that I couldn't do this much longer. I had only been at the transplant center one day when they had found lungs for me. I hadn’t been on the list. I hadn’t done my testing. I had no reason to have hope. Yet somehow, I knew deep down, that I wasn’t going to die. They finally did place me on a ventilator to give me a small break before surgery. One of the transplant doctors told me she asked for my consent for the surgery but I wasn’t really with it. I have no recollection of this. She told me she had to ask my parents for the consent instead.
(Happy sisters, surgery was a success!)
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