tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45079303151454143302024-03-12T22:31:16.812-07:00When cancer strikes....again....Matthew C. Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05404234502141819672noreply@blogger.comBlogger43125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507930315145414330.post-61360357749957203942016-09-02T21:08:00.000-07:002016-09-21T08:21:13.132-07:0009/02/2016 - Lower my Pills!I keep having some "Lower my bills" slogan in my head...must have seen it on the side of a metro-bus or something. So, just ran with it to name this blog post....<br />
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I had an 8:45am lab appointment and a 9am office visit on Friday 9/2.<br />
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I was told that they would look at my blood levels taken that morning, and e-mail me later that day if I could reduce any further pills. I had complained a little about how uneasy my stomach was with all the magnesium that they had me taking so I was hoping to drop down on the 5 pills I took daily there.<br />
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Later that day, the good news came in an e-mail:<br />
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<i>Awesome, Miss <Miss.Really.Awesome@gunet.georgetown.edu></i><br />
<i>Sep 2 (3 days ago)</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>to me, Tessa </i><br />
<i>Mr and Mrs White-</i><br />
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<i>Great to see your both today. We can decrease your cellcept to 500mg twice a day and your tacrolimus to 3mg twice a day. We can also go down on your Mag Oxide to just two in the AM and two in the PM. So skip the lunchtime dose.</i><br />
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<i>We will get labs as planned.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Thanks,</i><br />
<br />
<i>Miss Awesome, ANP-BC</i><br />
<i>Post Liver Transplant Nurse Practitioner</i><br />
<i>Georgetown University Transplant Institute</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
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Translated to English that means I can reduce my CellCept (anti rejection drug) to take 4 pills a day rather than 8 pills a day. I can also decrease my Tacrolimus (a different anti rejection drug) from 7 pills a day down to 6 pills a day.<br />
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Since I'm a numbers guy and you're reading, in the last week, I'm down to:<br />
8am - From 14 pills to 8 Pills<br />
2pm - from 1 pill to no pills, skip all together<br />
8pm - From 9 pills to 7 Pills<br />
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So from 24 pills to 15 pills in a week, that's a pretty stellar decrease.<br />
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8pm Pills:<br />
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Toot-Toot<br />
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Looking forward over the next year or so, I hope to drop my cell-cept altogether and only maybe be on my Tacrolimus. All of these drugs are hard on my single kidney so my ultimate goal would be to read in the New York Times about some breakthrough where they can find a way to stop taking pills and still have the liver perform and not reject in my body. I really believe that this is possible and hope it's not more than 20 years away. The biggest problem for me is that I already only have a single kidney and so if these drugs really beat my kidney up, I might need a new one of those too and that's too daunting of a prospect to think about so I'd much rather think that science comes up with some shortcut breakthrough....Matthew C. Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05404234502141819672noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507930315145414330.post-84994449617176201792016-09-01T21:21:00.000-07:002016-09-21T08:14:45.495-07:0009/01/2016 - Staple Removal Bonus PhotosSome recent previously unpublished staple removal pics were uncovered from the vault. Since you've been a loyal follower, I'll either reward or punish you (depending on if you like pics like this). Commentary is all in the 6/20-ish blog posts so you get the story there, these are just the pics.<br />
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<br />Matthew C. Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05404234502141819672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507930315145414330.post-12302613366222058132016-08-29T20:58:00.000-07:002016-09-05T21:42:53.262-07:0008/29/2016 - My 3 Month AnniversaryMy liver just turned 3! The 3 month liver birthday marker is significant for a number of reasons. I have a meeting with my incredibly responsive nurse practitioner to discuss my progress and possibilities of drug reductions.<br />
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On the 29th, I was told that I could discontinue the following pills three pills:<br />
1) Bactrim - 1 pill at 8am - antibiotics used to treat or prevent infections.<br />
2) Valganciclovir - 1 pill at 8am - an antiviral medication used to treat cytomegalovirus infections.<br />
3) Pantoprazole - 1 pill at 8am - Treats gastroesophageal reflux disease and high levels of stomach acid.<br />
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Now, three pills might not sound like a lot however, that's 10% of the pills I take and reduced my morning 8am pill count from 14 to 11. Now that's good progress (think baby steps).<br />
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<br />Matthew C. Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05404234502141819672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507930315145414330.post-19929951516272150792016-08-08T20:09:00.000-07:002016-09-05T21:41:36.198-07:0008/08/2016 - First family vacation... in a long whileI'm really starting to completely feel like myself again. I know it's been a while since I posted because the family and I had our first taste of real freedom and took about two weeks and spent it in rural Indiana. It was fantastic for everyone. We had been on a short leash, close to the hospital, always waiting for that fateful call. After the operation, I was hanging close for follow-up appointments, and labwork.<br />
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My awesome nurse practitioner, told me that I was to come in every two weeks, with labs at a local lab on the off-weeks (so they still had weekly labs). So, we took a looks to see if we'd be able to pull off a trip to visit my cousin about 45 mins North of Evansville and about 45 mins west of Louisville (Pronounce Loo-ah-vull for all you non-natives). The specific area we were visiting was <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gentryville,_Indiana" target="_blank">Gentryville, IN</a>. I pulled up the lab companies website, and found a lab that was about 45 mins away from where we were staying, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Owensboro,_Kentucky" target="_blank">Owenbsboro KY</a>! Then off we went.<br />
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The kids were in free roam with the only worry poison ivy. We spent time; driving and moving dirt on a <a href="http://www.bobcat.com/eu/loaders/compact-tracked-loaders/models/t110/features" target="_blank">T110 Bobcat</a>, mowing the grass with a Zero Turn Hydrostatic riding lawnmower, riding in an F350 pickup, driving a gas powered off road golf cart through the woods on trails, and I even got in some target practice when the tots were sleeping. It was pretty much the best man-camp ever. <br />
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No real issues with getting to the lab or my bloodwork. Most of the folks there were in for the pee tests for their jobs. The ladies working the lab were so friendly...they told me "Hon, you don't need to make a reservation, you can just head on in and we'll take care of you". <br />
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It was Michelle's birthday, you all knew that she was staying with us for 1.5 months taking care of the kids while Tessa was looking after me. Her fiance rented a houseboat and we all had a grand time on it, in <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Patoka_Lake" target="_blank">Lake Patoka</a>. The kids love being in the water and used it as a chance for multiple hours in the water each day.<br />
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This was a great trip and even worth it with the long car-ride with the Tots. It was the first time I really felt like we all let our guard down and got to unwind. It was great.<br />
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<br />Matthew C. Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05404234502141819672noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507930315145414330.post-24071680882600855662016-07-25T13:45:00.002-07:002016-08-01T08:15:29.142-07:0007/08/2016 - My Post 4th of July Georgetown Checkin<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">I was slated to go in every two weeks but from my last post, you know I was in the ER so that plan didn't work so well. From now on, I was to go in locally for blood work every two weeks at Quest Diagnostics, and then every off week I head in to Georgetown for Labs and then doctors visit.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="background-color: white;">The most important things to track are my blood work at this point to make sure my liver is functioning well and we have a controlled dosage of Prograff (anti-rejection drug). Also to check to make sure my kidney function is good because they tend to get worked hard with all the drug consumption.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="background-color: white;">So I've mentioned the pills that I take but maybe that doesn't hit home. A picture is worth a thousand pills, right? Morning pills up top, Noon is just a single pill (covered) and then evening pills at 8pm. Bedtime is just painkillers if / when I need them.</span></span><br />
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My Prograff level was slightly high so my one 5mg pill at 8am and 8pm is now Four 1mg pills at 8am and 8pm. More pills but lower dosage so it's a rob Peter to pay Paul type of thing. Every two weeks they've been whittling down my Predisone dosages too. I was taking Two 5mg pills at 8am and now I'm taking One 5mg pill at 8am. In two weeks, I hope to be off the steroid. If I am, that means I can be off another drug too, my Nystatin 5ml, 4x per day. The <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nystatin" target="_blank">Nystatin</a> is an oral medication that I have two swish around for two minutes and then swallow. It's like a generic mouthwash that tastes like chalky gumball powder. Not in a good way, like, those gumballs that taste good for 5 seconds and then lose all their suga / flavor. <br />
<br />
The reduction in meds will be a big win for me hopefully getting back to feeling more like myself, a big milestone. My calves were cramping last week in the middle of the night so badly that I had to stand up out of bed to stretch. It turns out that my prograff works to deplete my magnesium levels, so they added a Nooner dose of magnesium. So now, 5 mag pills daily, Two @ 8am, One @ 2pm, and Two @ 8pm.</div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">
My blood pressure was ok but I was asked to keep an eye on my pulse which is flirting with 100 to see if I may need some additional meds to keep my pulse in a lower range. Oddly, I also lost 2 pounds from my last weigh in two weeks back.</div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">
All in all, a pretty good appointment. Below are the bags of drugs and how I layout things when I create my weekly pill-box.<br />
<div style="font-size: small;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvSnKyQiE5hBIzPHaMZampoDM0i9yViMJEazVbkwYoWQIfEk6WdDkFhrqqvPSz24P_xXpVZiO77d6CJMzYBKwbfgMrWtMHdh-6PDxV_4i23OqXOesCiWt-yevX2rKdoIcfGivgNYgKKE8/s1600/drugs_on_bed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="382" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvSnKyQiE5hBIzPHaMZampoDM0i9yViMJEazVbkwYoWQIfEk6WdDkFhrqqvPSz24P_xXpVZiO77d6CJMzYBKwbfgMrWtMHdh-6PDxV_4i23OqXOesCiWt-yevX2rKdoIcfGivgNYgKKE8/s400/drugs_on_bed.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="font-size: small;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: small;">
<br /></div>
Until we have other news, I'm signing off.....</div>
Matthew C. Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05404234502141819672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507930315145414330.post-66894754187908393752016-07-25T13:45:00.001-07:002016-08-01T08:14:53.296-07:0007/08/2016 - My Post 4th of July Georgetown Checkin<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">I was slated to go in every two weeks but from my last post, you know I was in the ER so that plan didn't work so well. From now on, I was to go in locally for blood work every two weeks at Quest Diagnostics, and then every off week I head in to Georgetown for Labs and then doctors visit.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="background-color: white;">The most important things to track are my blood work at this point to make sure my liver is functioning well and we have a controlled dosage of Prograff (anti-rejection drug). Also to check to make sure my kidney function is good because they tend to get worked hard with all the drug consumption.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="background-color: white;">So I've mentioned the pills that I take but maybe that doesn't hit home. A picture is worth a thousand pills, right? Morning pills up top, Noon is just a single pill (covered) and then evening pills at 8pm. Bedtime is just painkillers if / when I need them.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzTcqoucrqbFUCvaiMWL3bVy_T5AB_ltHs4sUZUM-3MMjD1diF-oc1-dZ_3UG-pIpiRjwfXEGYrWPjHapfOSiXp0ghkBEofZSjd8U2dcQJViks5bVhUNaOLn9o7R97YH8_zvjjwANVicg/s1600/Pills_Cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzTcqoucrqbFUCvaiMWL3bVy_T5AB_ltHs4sUZUM-3MMjD1diF-oc1-dZ_3UG-pIpiRjwfXEGYrWPjHapfOSiXp0ghkBEofZSjd8U2dcQJViks5bVhUNaOLn9o7R97YH8_zvjjwANVicg/s640/Pills_Cropped.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">
My Prograff level was slightly high so my one 5mg pill at 8am and 8pm is now Four 1mg pills at 8am and 8pm. More pills but lower dosage so it's a rob Peter to pay Paul type of thing. Every two weeks they've been whittling down my Predisone dosages too. I was taking Two 5mg pills at 8am and now I'm taking One 5mg pill at 8am. In two weeks, I hope to be off the steroid. If I am, that means I can be off another drug too, my Nystatin 5ml, 4x per day. The <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nystatin" target="_blank">Nystatin</a> is an oral medication that I have two swish around for two minutes and then swallow. It's like a generic mouthwash that tastes like chalky gumball powder. Not in a good way, like, those gumballs that taste good for 5 seconds and then lose all their suga / flavor. <br />
<br />
The reduction in meds will be a big win for me hopefully getting back to feeling more like myself, a big milestone. My calves were cramping last week in the middle of the night so badly that I had to stand up out of bed to stretch. It turns out that my prograff works to deplete my magnesium levels, so they added a Nooner dose of magnesium. So now, 5 mag pills daily, Two @ 8am, One @ 2pm, and Two @ 8pm.</div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">
My blood pressure was ok but I was asked to keep an eye on my pulse which is flirting with 100 to see if I may need some additional meds to keep my pulse in a lower range. Oddly, I also lost 2 pounds from my last weigh in two weeks back.</div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">
All in all, a pretty good appointment. Below are the bags of drugs and how I layout things when I create my weekly pill-box.<br />
<div style="font-size: small;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvSnKyQiE5hBIzPHaMZampoDM0i9yViMJEazVbkwYoWQIfEk6WdDkFhrqqvPSz24P_xXpVZiO77d6CJMzYBKwbfgMrWtMHdh-6PDxV_4i23OqXOesCiWt-yevX2rKdoIcfGivgNYgKKE8/s1600/drugs_on_bed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="382" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvSnKyQiE5hBIzPHaMZampoDM0i9yViMJEazVbkwYoWQIfEk6WdDkFhrqqvPSz24P_xXpVZiO77d6CJMzYBKwbfgMrWtMHdh-6PDxV_4i23OqXOesCiWt-yevX2rKdoIcfGivgNYgKKE8/s400/drugs_on_bed.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="font-size: small;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: small;">
<br /></div>
Until we have other news, I'm signing off.....</div>
Matthew C. Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05404234502141819672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507930315145414330.post-23686353614988390422016-07-25T13:45:00.000-07:002016-08-01T08:14:06.532-07:0007/08/2016 - My Post 4th of July Georgetown Checkin<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">I was slated to go in every two weeks but from my last post, you know I was in the ER so that plan didn't work so well. From now on, I was to go in locally for blood work every two weeks at Quest Diagnostics, and then every off week I head in to Georgetown for Labs and then doctors visit.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="background-color: white;">The most important things to track are my blood work at this point to make sure my liver is functioning well and we have a controlled dosage of Prograff (anti-rejection drug). Also to check to make sure my kidney function is good because they tend to get worked hard with all the drug consumption.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="background-color: white;">So I've mentioned the pills that I take but maybe that doesn't hit home. A picture is worth a thousand pills, right? Morning pills up top, Noon is just a single pill (covered) and then evening pills at 8pm. Bedtime is just painkillers if / when I need them.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzTcqoucrqbFUCvaiMWL3bVy_T5AB_ltHs4sUZUM-3MMjD1diF-oc1-dZ_3UG-pIpiRjwfXEGYrWPjHapfOSiXp0ghkBEofZSjd8U2dcQJViks5bVhUNaOLn9o7R97YH8_zvjjwANVicg/s1600/Pills_Cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzTcqoucrqbFUCvaiMWL3bVy_T5AB_ltHs4sUZUM-3MMjD1diF-oc1-dZ_3UG-pIpiRjwfXEGYrWPjHapfOSiXp0ghkBEofZSjd8U2dcQJViks5bVhUNaOLn9o7R97YH8_zvjjwANVicg/s640/Pills_Cropped.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">
My Prograff level was slightly high so my one 5mg pill at 8am and 8pm is now Four 1mg pills at 8am and 8pm. More pills but lower dosage so it's a rob Peter to pay Paul type of thing. Every two weeks they've been whittling down my Predisone dosages too. I was taking Two 5mg pills at 8am and now I'm taking One 5mg pill at 8am. In two weeks, I hope to be off the steroid. If I am, that means I can be off another drug too, my Nystatin 5ml, 4x per day. The <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nystatin" target="_blank">Nystatin</a> is an oral medication that I have two swish around for two minutes and then swallow. It's like a generic mouthwash that tastes like chalky gumball powder. Not in a good way, like, those gumballs that taste good for 5 seconds and then lose all their suga / flavor. <br />
<br />
The reduction in meds will be a big win for me hopefully getting back to feeling more like myself, a big milestone. My calves were cramping last week in the middle of the night so badly that I had to stand up out of bed to stretch. It turns out that my prograff works to deplete my magnesium levels, so they added a Nooner dose of magnesium. So now, 5 mag pills daily, Two @ 8am, One @ 2pm, and Two @ 8pm.</div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">
My blood pressure was ok but I was asked to keep an eye on my pulse which is flirting with 100 to see if I may need some additional meds to keep my pulse in a lower range. Oddly, I also lost 2 pounds from my last weigh in two weeks back.</div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">
All in all, a pretty good appointment. Below are the bags of drugs and how I layout things when I create my weekly pill-box.<br />
<div style="font-size: small;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: small; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvSnKyQiE5hBIzPHaMZampoDM0i9yViMJEazVbkwYoWQIfEk6WdDkFhrqqvPSz24P_xXpVZiO77d6CJMzYBKwbfgMrWtMHdh-6PDxV_4i23OqXOesCiWt-yevX2rKdoIcfGivgNYgKKE8/s1600/drugs_on_bed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="382" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvSnKyQiE5hBIzPHaMZampoDM0i9yViMJEazVbkwYoWQIfEk6WdDkFhrqqvPSz24P_xXpVZiO77d6CJMzYBKwbfgMrWtMHdh-6PDxV_4i23OqXOesCiWt-yevX2rKdoIcfGivgNYgKKE8/s400/drugs_on_bed.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="font-size: small;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: small;">
<br /></div>
Until we have other news, I'm signing off.....</div>
Matthew C. Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05404234502141819672noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507930315145414330.post-81168302063603031992016-07-14T08:00:00.001-07:002016-07-14T08:00:04.030-07:00Four Years Later... and Vows to a New Man<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Four years ago, Whitey and I promised each other we would love each other in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, till death do us part. </span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My goodness, how we have been tested on all three of these vows, every day in the past year alone. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I have reminded myself of these vows that we took every day since we received Whitey's diagnosis. You think I am kidding, but I am not. Every night before I fall asleep, I look at my husband (usually sleeping) and silently say to him, "This is so damn hard... but my God, you are so worth it."</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Whitey has asked me to write about what it was like for me while we were in the hospital. I have put it off for the past month. Why? Because looking back at it, I am not entirely sure that I have processed it all. How do I put into words the most gut wrenching experience of my life? Today, I will try.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When we got the call, our lives changed immeasurably. We were told that the donor was a 32 year old female, who had a stroke during a c-section. As parents, our first thoughts were, "Did the baby make it? That is completely awful. What is going to happen to the father? I cannot even imagine." And then, the transplant recipient in us whispered, "She was pregnant. She is not a high risk donor. She probably has not been drinking or doing drugs for the past months. This is it. This is our chance... Wait. You are disgusting and bad person for even thinking like this. Tessa. You're going to hell." </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In the two days that we were in the hospital awaiting the transplant after the call, this weighed heavily on my heart. I knew that our chance at happiness and life ultimately meant another family's biggest heartbreak. What I didn't anticipate was dealing with the feelings of guilt. I mean, I am awkward even receiving a compliment from someone... To say that I failed in receiving this gift with grace is the biggest understatement of my life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Whitey and I had two nights in the hospital together waiting. It was the first time in over a year that we had time away from the twins. Not exactly the romantic vacation that we had dreamed about, but we took advantage of it. We held hands, told each other that we loved each other. Watched Silicon Valley on HBOgo. Slept in that surprisingly comfortable twin sized hospital bed, side by side. I didn't want to leave him. I kept telling myself that it could be the last day I spent with my husband... I needed to make it count.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBE-J-4OvYDRoHFHzZeY2dR-lA4KvfTAkrjkW-bg9wJM4ZyoBFD5Zc-9WmQDokijVk_FWeCVPmtrRys9BvJ7l0WMRUZgxsLeWmMJnXWmIdkI25asLbshQTMXzVZu_9PpkddEz8Gkw3U4Q/s1600/IMG_8465.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBE-J-4OvYDRoHFHzZeY2dR-lA4KvfTAkrjkW-bg9wJM4ZyoBFD5Zc-9WmQDokijVk_FWeCVPmtrRys9BvJ7l0WMRUZgxsLeWmMJnXWmIdkI25asLbshQTMXzVZu_9PpkddEz8Gkw3U4Q/s320/IMG_8465.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A selfie taken in the hospital, waiting for transplant.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">While we waited, my sister and mother in law brought the twins over to the hospital. To say hello (and in the back of my mind, possibly good bye) to their daddy. To give him hugs and kisses. For us to have a family hug. I kept thinking to myself, "This could be the last time they ever see him. This could be our last time together as a family." And then forcing myself to stop thinking like that... and failing. Because at any given moment, that thought was there, looming over me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBpLwZ329C58UAjzsRr9PV52RwU1ypwiCDDJKsYWSyaBNdaQtAsBApJCzzSggWxRPOOz4J15_KPqcXmyFCvrowLCN5yh_iwCT4ImW9PkHDWqMdT9egO9McIn0a9AgnBpBd5TxIpoLDkHo/s1600/IMG_8444.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBpLwZ329C58UAjzsRr9PV52RwU1ypwiCDDJKsYWSyaBNdaQtAsBApJCzzSggWxRPOOz4J15_KPqcXmyFCvrowLCN5yh_iwCT4ImW9PkHDWqMdT9egO9McIn0a9AgnBpBd5TxIpoLDkHo/s320/IMG_8444.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Cuddles with daddy before transplant.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil2OucHx7zOm7c1dzVtpmdpsa_xWYRRMFMmKKtGrMmjM5GeHOIdGTa9zom10lTI0aU8c7F_XPgA6_JFczAK377Gex2uU2zaxqsmE7St8pDFwgXidV9p3N9alW_LrN55Z4URytMZNEs2kE/s1600/IMG_8455.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil2OucHx7zOm7c1dzVtpmdpsa_xWYRRMFMmKKtGrMmjM5GeHOIdGTa9zom10lTI0aU8c7F_XPgA6_JFczAK377Gex2uU2zaxqsmE7St8pDFwgXidV9p3N9alW_LrN55Z4URytMZNEs2kE/s320/IMG_8455.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Last family picture taken before transplant.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I realized that during this wait and anticipation, another family was saying their good byes. But unlike our "maybe goodbyes if things don't go well...." this family was saying their "forever goodbyes" to a girl that they loved. And so we waited patiently some more, held hands tighter, and gave more kisses. Spent time together, as the donor's organs were "procured and tested." The timeline kept getting pushed back, and we realized that it was probably because her family wanted to spend more time with her. She was brain dead, but at least the machines were there keeping her alive.</span></div>
<div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The morning finally came, and Whitey's parents walked with us down to the OR. We had all decided ahead of time that they would be there when the surgery occurred. It was 5AM, and every single step seemed like I had concrete shoes on, my body carrying the heaviest heart. Did I tell Whitey that I loved him enough? Was a good enough wife to him? I was so sorry for losing my temper... I'm sorry I ever yelled. Did he know that he meant the world to me? This surely couldn't be the end of our story... but what if it was? If he left me during surgery, what would I do? The thought of that took my breath away. Would the twins remember what an incredible daddy he was? What if this is it? What if?... I should have... etc. etc....</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Before Whitey got wheeled into surgery.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Whitey with his parents before surgery</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I wasn't fucking ready. This was NOT what I expected our life and marriage would be. I had willingly signed up for this... I just didn't ever expect that this is what would actually happen. We are only in our 30s. We are parents to toddlers. This wasn't our fate, we had so much more life to live. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The doctors came into the Operating Prep Room one by one. The surgical team told us that the liver had arrived and looked good. (Yes, it probably came in the same kind of coolers that we put our drinks in during picnics. It was actually driven over in an ambulance. Weird. I remember wondering if the ambulance had the sirens on.... ) The anesthesiologists came in and explained to us what Whitey would go through. "He will be sedated when he comes out... it will take about 7-12 hours. He will do great." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Exactly how was he supposed to be under for that long without bleeding out? How was that even remotely possible? Machines. That was the answer. And really freaking good doctors and nurses. I had to put my faith in people who didn't know us. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So in those few moments that we had with our doctors, we made sure to to tell these doctors exactly WHO Matt was. He wasn't just any old patient. He is a son, a husband, a dad, my best friend. We showed them pictures of our family, of the twins. We told them that he like hiked Mt. Kilimanjaro and Machu Pichu, and likes to play soccer. We told them anything to remind them that he was special... that he was my special person. </span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He wasn't in need of this liver because he was an alcoholic.... he had cancer twice in his life, and had gotten HEP C from a blood transfusion when he was 7 because of that cancer.</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> (In my head I kept thinking, "So don't you dare mess this up...he deserves your best") </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And just like that, it was time to say good bye. I looked at Whitey, told him I loved him, locked eyes with him again, and we walked out. He said he would get through this... and mouthed "I love you, too" to me. And that was that. I felt like I was going to throw up. I wanted to run, I needed to tell him one more thing... </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The next 7.5 hours were a blur. Because it was Memorial Day Weekend, the hospital was running at bare bones staff. There usually is a surgical liaison to update the family on how the surgery was going, but this weekend, there was no one. Just me, my mother and father in law, looking at each other. Furiously typing on our phones, filling everyone in on what was going on. Talking about nothing, trying not to look at the clock.... waiting to hear anything. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I don't know why I checked the blog at this point... probably just something to do. And then I saw this post that he wrote. <a href="http://itisatumor.blogspot.com/2016/05/5292016-post-to-all-while-im-under-knife.html">http://itisatumor.blogspot.com/2016/05/5292016-post-to-all-while-im-under-knife.html </a> Of course he did this. It was SO Matt. Always thinking of us. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I also realized something. There was another man in the OR when we were all talking to the doctors before Whitey's surgery. An African American man probably in his 50s, was in the surgical waiting room was getting ready for his surgery, too. I am sure he heard what we were telling the doctors. In the waiting area a few couches down, there was another African American gentleman waiting. As the hours drew on, we realized that he was waiting alone. So, we all started to talk, and realized that we were all waiting on our loved ones to receive an organ transplant... for Whitey a liver, for Johnnie. A, a kidney. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It did not take a rocket scientist to realize that we were now an unlikely family, all connected by the same donor. And so we all talked. For hours, about nothing and everything. Watching the time go by. And it helped me significantly, realizing that we weren't alone. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">By hour 7.5, I was restless. We had seen the main surgeon walk down, and tell us that the surgery went beautifully, and that Whitey didn't need any more blood in the form of a transfusion. We were elated! And awkwardly asked if I could hug him, and I threw my arms around the very formal, German surgeon. Luckily, he was nice about it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The hours drew on, and no liaison had come down to tell us where Whitey was. I decided to take matters into my own hands. I went walking around aimlessly to find my husband. I started on the top floor in the Neurosurgical ICU, and worked my way down. I walked into the ICU saying, "I am looking for my husband. He just had a liver transplant, and I have no idea where he is. Could you help me out?" Luckily, the nurses were extremely helpful, and guided me to his floor. I walked into the Surgical ICU (SICU) and repeated my shpeal... and a nurse kindly said, "Oh my goodness! No one told you he was up here? I'm so sorry. We are running on a short staff. Mr. White has been here for an hour or so. He is doing well. Sedated. You can go and see him."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You know that feeling when you are going up the hill on a roller coaster, just before you come swooshing down? Or have you ever had a dream where you're under water and can't breathe? Or where you are falling uncontrollably? Or feeling like you have literally gotten hit by a bus?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It was all of that at one time. My worst nightmare coming to life... because it was at that moment where I saw the single most important person in my life look... dead. I cannot even begin to explain the feelings... </span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">tears started pouring down my face uncontrollably. There he was... and he looked NOTHING like I was expecting. When I thought of the word "sedated"... I thought: sleepy, incoherent, but awake. No. He was none of those things. He was gray, bloated, and strapped to the bed with arm and leg restraints, like a prisoner. He had a central line in his neck, with four ports and another in his leg. He had two drains filling up with blood coming out of his stomach area. Two IVs in each arm. A ventilator down his throat and strapped to his head, artificially breathing for him every few seconds. I realized that he must have had a nose bleed in the middle of his surgery... because blood was crusted around his nostril. It didn't take long to realize that a surgeon's definition of "sedated" really meant, "medically induced coma."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He wasn't moving. He didn't know I was there... and yet, I talked to him. I told him how proud I was of him. How much of a bad ass I thought he was. I thanked him for keeping his promise and not leaving me. I told him I loved him... about a million and one times... and again. Because I did. I do. In sickness and in health. For better or for worse. Till death do us part... but not that part. Not today.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHmmxwvEbwMUufJjZdU4O4qUHDS5sm1r6r4B6_eOyFtN6Mgf9eQIJXcwWPXFFvlTxkNesPbS4vRaMhyphenhyphen8JkcCVTDWB37nU2ZYQT8ujbjCnWShsIaUN4voo_yuSCsLt-gqztgxm-fLdX-pQ/s1600/IMG_8489.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHmmxwvEbwMUufJjZdU4O4qUHDS5sm1r6r4B6_eOyFtN6Mgf9eQIJXcwWPXFFvlTxkNesPbS4vRaMhyphenhyphen8JkcCVTDWB37nU2ZYQT8ujbjCnWShsIaUN4voo_yuSCsLt-gqztgxm-fLdX-pQ/s320/IMG_8489.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A few hours after surgery</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Three squeezes means "I love you" in our house.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I saw Matt's parents walk in the room... eyes filling with tears. I couldn't even imagine what they were thinking. We kept hearing, "He did great!" In the back of my mind, I kept thinking, "... In comparison to what?" But I kept quiet, trying to trust the process.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I saw the nurse walk in with a hazmat looking suit come in, (face mask, gloves and all) telling me that he had to administer a medication to Matt that required me to leave the room. If the medicine came into contact with the nurse's skin, it would be bad. But it was okay to inject into my husband's body? Seriously? How was that even a thing? And then it happened. A man came in to take an ultrasound of Whitey's new liver, and lifted his blankets. While looking at the screen, the technician went about his business, not looking at Whitey, placing the ultrasound probe on Matt's stomach....and immediately, Matt's face scrunched up, like he was in the most excruciating pain of his life. His body literally writhed in pain, but he couldn't move his arms and legs... they were restrained. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It was then that I freaked out. I yelled at the tech to stop. Yelled. Told him that just because Whitey couldn't open his eyes and speak, that he was still a patient that needed to be watched... and he had not taken care of my husband. Mama bear came out in full, claws and all. The nurse immediately rushed over, injected pain meds into Whitey's IV, and slowly his face slackened. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">THAT is how it was. It was the most terrible experience of my life... and I was supposed to walk around like everything was okay. So I did. I faked my way through life that week.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The next few days were a complete blur. Going back and forth, to and from the hospital. Trying to be there for my husband... and trying to make it on time to see my children before they went to sleep. Updating everyone on how he was. Literally being pulled in a million different directions, needing to be there for everyone... and somehow failing at every aspect. My kids were sad that I wasn't home. They knew something was wrong. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Whitey was not a joy to be around while in the hospital... or in the weeks to come. I was told that it was the 1000mg of steroids that they administered to him. It gave me some answers, but I kept on wondering where my sweet husband (who had never been mean to me a day in our 8 years together) had gone. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I remember one day in particular. Whitey's best friend, Blair, came every morning to visit, before I got there. I appreciated this so much, as anyone in the DC area knows how bad traffic can be getting into the city in the mornings... especially with HOV restrictions on rt. 66. When I got there, Matt seemed upset with me that I didn't come earlier. I swallowed my frustration, telling him that it had taken me an hour and 30 minutes to get there with traffic, and another 20 minutes to get parked. We visited for a while, and then Matt's parents came in. It was decided that I was to go home, and stay with the kids, while Matt's parents would stay with him, and fill me in on what happened at the hospital. When I got home, the twins were initially super excited and relieved to see me... but then that quickly turned into "oh wait. Mommy left us, and we are mad at her. Let's pretend she doesn't exist." Yep... didn't hurt my feelings at all... in my physically exhausted and emotionally drained state. (ha!) I got a call from Matt's parents, who told me that he was finally sleeping, and that I should just come back in the morning, and let him rest for the night. I was happy with that plan, until I got a text from Matt at 9:45 at night, asking me to come to the hospital, that he missed me, and he wanted me there so that I could hold his hand while he fell asleep. Well, who was going to argue with that? I got there at 11pm, and immediately realized that he was in a terrible mood. He told me that he needed a sponge bath (despite what you have heard.... not a terribly sexy thing...) and that he needed help to use the rest room. Afterwards, he told me that my breath smelled horrible, and that it was making him want to throw up... in front of a nurse (not embarrassing at all.) When I told him I was going to leave, it was close to 1:50am. He started getting upset, telling me that he knew why old people didn't want to be left in a nursing home, because hospitals were lonely, and people went there to die. He then told me that he expected me to be back at the hospital the next morning, preferably at 6:00am, so that I could talk to the doctor. I asked him when he expected me to sleep, as I was exhausted and had been up literally for days, and he said, "Well, just figure it out."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I walked out of there telling myself, "It is highly frowned upon to punch a man in the face in the ICU... right?" But that is what I wanted to do. Have you ever seen the movie Knocked Up? There is a scene where Seth Rogen tells his pregnant and hormonal girlfriend, "I know it isn't you who is talking... it is the hormones.... but F YOU hormones!!!" Well, in our case, substitute Seth Rogen with me... and the words "hormones" with "steroids."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And that is how it was. Ups and downs. And so I smiled. Hoping that things would get better... because we had reached rock bottom.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The second night we were there, I saw Johnnie A.'s brother in the ICU waiting room. We said our hellos, gave each other hugs, and I actually went to with him to go and visit the man who now shared genes from their donor with my husband. He was an awesome ray of light, and it was a pleasure to meet him. He smiled and told me it was comforting to him to hear the conversation we had with the doctors in the OR prep room, and that one day he would like to share a meal with the man who has twin toddlers, climbs mountains, and plays soccer. I kept thinking about crazy it was that our paths in life had intersected... but how we shared a bond so deep. Unlikely new family members, profoundly joined by the same donor. That is beautiful to me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">One day, we also got a visitor... the anesthesiologist that had been with Matt through the surgery came in to check up on Whitey. Apparently, our conversation with him in the OR prep room before Whitey went under had left an impression on him, too. He told us that it hit home, when he realized that he was the same age as Whitey, separated by a month. He told us that he told his wife about us, as she was expecting their third baby in the coming months. He realized how easily it could have been them dealing with this issue. He also told Whitey how the doctors and nurses kept mentioning in the OR how Matt was in better shape than most people in that operating room, and that he is sure that Whitey will be back on the soccer field in no time. That that is why he does his job, and is especially happy to work on cases where he knows where the recipient will make the most of their life. He was genuinely happy he was for us, and wished us well. It was things like that that solidified our decision to stick with Georgetown for the transplant, despite the old facilities. The people were incredible.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Then it happened. A few days later, I received a message from a dear friend of mine. She said that she hoped she wasn't crossing a line, but had come across a webpage that might interest me. It was a GoFundMe page... with a tragic story of a couple's untimely end. There, before my eyes, I saw their story unfold. I found out many things. She wasn't 32, she was ten years younger. But, the rest of the story added up... with almost 99% certainty, we knew she was our donor. And the baby had lived. I saw the picture of her husband holding their newborn. I showed Whitey the page, walked out of the room, and wept as I walked away. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I guess when tragic things happen to young people in this area, there was a great possibility that our stories would cross. I just didn't think it would happen while Whitey was still in the ICU. But if there was one thing I have come to terms with during this last month and a half? Time and circumstances do not wait... life happens whether we say we are ready or not. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I immediately felt horrible. I was getting annoyed with Whitey's steroid roid rage attitude problem... when I am sure that the donor's husband would give anything to be in our position. When things got difficult, I had to tell myself, "Grow up. Stop feeling so sorry for yourself in this situation. This pain is temporary. You know who you should feel sorry for?..." and I would go back to the GoFundMe page. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We were the lucky ones of the ICU. We had forward progress everyday. Most people there were not as fortunate.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I realize I have written a book during this blog post... and I apologize for the long read. But, I promised Whitey that I would write this post at one point... and why not be our anniversary? Happy anniversary, honey! I love you so much... even when you were a complete jerk. Stupid drugs.... thank God you are being weaned off the steroids. Luckily, the side effects are wearing off, and my funny, sweet, and kind husband is making an appearance more and more, everyday. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I will end with this. To the brand new father, whose life changed so tragically the day before our life began.... thank you. We were given a chance at life because of your decision to donate life. Our words aren't going to be enough to make you feel better, so, I will make this vow of action and intent to you:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I will honor your wife's life daily, by loving my husband everyday... because I know you cannot tell her in person anymore. I hope you are comforted knowing that a piece of her lives on with us every day, </span><span style="font-family: 'helvetica neue', arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">that a part of her loves and is loved every single moment in our lives.</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">... in at least two people that I know of. In a time when our country is being shaken to the core by racial inequity and sadness, our three families ( Caucasian, African American, and Filipino American) have broken those racial barriers... showing us that in the end, while we may look completely different and have different circumstances, on the inside, we were all created equally</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We are forever indebted to you, and love you for making such a huge sacrifice. I hope that we will all be able to honor her, by living our lives to the fullest. I vow that along with Whitey, we will be the best parents we possibly can to Eli and Leila. We will continue to provide them with unconditional love... and be the best parents we can be to them together. If I ever think that it is too hard, roll my eyes at their terrible behavior, or that life has dealt us a difficult hand... I think of you. How difficult it must be to figure out parenthood alone... and how lucky I am not to have to do this by myself. Because of you, I will never take it for granted. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We will continue to do so, everyday. With full intent. Whitey and I will do this... together. We will make sure that we make the most of the gift you gave to us, by loving each other, and our family with our entire souls. We promise we will make your wife proud as she watches down on all of us. </span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Finally, I hope we get to meet one day to thank you in person. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Happy four years, my love. It has been a wild ride, especially this past year. It has been so damn hard. And while I wish our journey has been a little bit easier.. but my God... you are so worth it. I am so lucky to have you in my life, to walk and navigate life every day with my best friend. But for once... let's make our fifth year of marriage a little more uneventful. I love you. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We are getting there! Slowly but surely.</span></td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02515709504433401730noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507930315145414330.post-73041872622138199172016-07-11T21:17:00.003-07:002016-07-11T21:17:43.390-07:0006/29/2016 - My One Month Mark - The Crack Debate & Sperm Count RequestI was looking forward to the psychological 1-month liver-versary of my transplant. No special reason really other than in my mind I've got this logically divided into three months with the first month being the most rough (most drugs, highest likelihood of rejection, ost frequent hospital visits etc).<br />
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As part of moving through the recovery, they are trying to slowly decrease my anti-rejection drugs as long as my prograff levels are where they need to be. They're also lowering my dosages of steroids by 5mg every two weeks. Those are the puppies that amp me up, make it hard to sleep, and give me mood swings. Once completely off the steroids, there are several other drugs that I can also discontinue. But I digress.<br />
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On the eve of my one month anniversary, I got a splitting headache. I logged it in my <a href="http://www.medisafe.com/" target="_blank">MediSafe</a> app which I use to track my daily meds (you can laugh at my but it keeps me sane and also allows me to track my temperature, blood pressure, and pulse on a daily basis). I figured I would crash early because Tessa said she could put down the twins. I have never really had headaches like this. I needed it cold, very cold, and dark. I went around unplugging any LED lights or power indicators on electronics, they bothered me and were too bright. I thought I could pound some water and sleep it off, I would be better in the morning, I thought. Morning came and my head was still throbbing when it was time to take my 8am pills (that's when I take the majority of my pills). <br />
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One by one I put the pills back with water...still feeling horrible. You don't need an award in journalism to tell where this is going. Five minutes after, I threw up. It was mostly water as I couldn't see any pills or pill casings. I called the on-call transplant coordinator, who instructed me that it's likely the pills are still ok, and to call back if I throw up again. The big concern is that I would miss a dose of the anti rejection meds and if still ill at 8pm, might throw those pills up too at which point I would need IV administration of said drugs.<br />
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At 9am, or shortly there-after, everything came up. There was nothing left in my stomach and there was no question that all my meds were gone. We called the on-call transplant coordinator back and she suggested coming in to the Georgetown ER. So we packed a bag, water, anti-bacterial hand wipes, something to read, and headed in.<br />
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Transplant had called ahead and told them I was coming, but I still needed to get vitals checked and then see the charge nurse. I explained everything, and then she gave me a face mask, and sent us to the "family waiting" area. Thank god, this was a room with only 4 seats and it was only for us. With a suppressed immune system and people coughing in the ER, we were worried that I could pick something up. Being isolated and with a mask, it reduced the chance of infection / getting sick. Tessa takes the following picture of me looking super excited and sends it out to the family via Text Message.<br />
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Ramon, Tessa's younger brother with a funny sense of humor, immediately takes a selfie from his home in California to cheer me up and sends it back out of the family. In the below picture, the left is me in a red shirt with names of four of the best Arsenal players on it (which was a gift from Tessa). On the right, is Ramon mocking me with his red shirt (also a gift from Tessa) with four of the best players from Manchester United. He put on a dusk mask he found somewhere and also had a red backpack. It really lifted my spirits and made me laugh. Perhaps I should gift a native american dream catcher to the ER at Georgetown to make it nearly identical?<br />
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When they finally did call be back, there were no rooms, so I got stuffed in the hallway. Lack of space is a constant and re-occurring theme at Georgetown. Below is where they had me. This is when this story gets good...and it's not about me, but more about our surroundings.<br />
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Because I was in the hall, I had one patient on either side of me and nobody had privacy. Now I'm about to make fun of my situation and the surrounding conversation. That's not to make light of the conditions that each of these people had, that's for the doctors to take care of. Yes, I might go to hell, and yes, some of you might be offended, but this is my life and I was laughing at the whole situation.<br />
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<h4>
ER Patient A</h4>
Patient A in front of me talking to a seated doctor who had a clipboard taking copious notes. Patient A had a person from her support group there with her, which was good for her (bad for me). Keep in mind there was absolutely no tone change during this conversation between the Doctor and patient. It might be like if you and I were having an exciting conversation about filling your car up with gas.....very routine.<br />
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Doctor: "So, you're feeling upset"<br />
Patient A: "Sometimes"<br />
Doctor: "Have you ever cut yourself"<br />
Patient A: "Yes"<br />
Doctor: "When was the last time you cut yourself"<br />
Patient A responds with a date<br />
Doctor: "When was the first time you cut yourself"<br />
Patient A responds with a date<br />
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Doctor: "How many times would you say you've cut yourself"</div>
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Patient A responds with a number<br />
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This number was apparently a good segue into the next obvious line of questioning.<br />
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Doctor: Have you tired Heroin?<br />
Patient A responds<br />
Doctor: Have you tired Cocaine?<br />
Patient A responds</div>
<div>
Doctor: Have you tired Crack?<br />
Patient A responds, then Patient A's support group friend then asks the doctor to define the difference between crack / cocaine. A lengthy conversation ensues between the three of then and somehow laughter starts. (<a href="http://cocaine.org/the-difference-between-powder-cocaine-and-crack-cocaine/" target="_blank">I don't know all the differences but google turns up something</a>).</div>
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All the while I can't help but to think, this doctor is getting honest responses (which is good) but can't this person see that there is no way they're going to let her out of here when she poses such a danger to herself?! The other thing I kept thinking, is that movie '<a href="https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=14&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwjv07C29-zNAhVM2B4KHc7lCPAQryQISigAMA0&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3Db7BUqE_NWMs&usg=AFQjCNFGxwqoHt60EbWNoQ4kabUTtFUAag&sig2=qpaMg9npgIanXoR5e18wvw&bvm=bv.126130881,d.dmo" target="_blank">As Good As It Gets</a>'...where Jack Nicholson comments to his depressed neighbor who had just been robbed and says...."What if this is as good as it gets....". No, I didn't say it....but thought about it in my twisted humorous mind.<br />
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After the doctor departs to likely make overnight arrangements, Patient A's support groupie (I'll just call her Groupie A) decides it's a great time to cheer up Patient A. Groupie A then opens up her iPhone and starts reading off knock-knock jokes as one liners. Now, I'm the biggest Dad joke teller of all time, but these were horrible....like....shameful. After each joke, Groupie A would <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YLpUatutZDw" target="_blank">play this sound from her phone</a>. It might have been the worst amatuer commedy hour ever.<br />
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<h4>
ER Patient B</h4>
Patient B was behind me, much less entertaining, but much more annoying. Patient B, a woman in her 20s, was ushered over right behind us. She was moaning and dry heaving. At first, I thought to myself, "Wow, something must really be wrong with her". Every 2-5 minutes....you heard this throat gurgling noise...as she tried to wretch but couldn't. Her dry-heave literally made you want to vomit yourself. Seeing as how I had nothing in my stomach, it didn't bother me, but I could see Tessa get so uncomfortable she had to head out to breathe the diesel clouded air right outside the ER where the ambulances park to run patients in. Plus, this vomit queen wanna-be wasn't covering her mouth as Tessa was informing me. Feel sorry for her right? <br />
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Doctors and nurses would be walking the hall, and as they approached she would make her vomit noises, again producing nothing. Everyone kept walking past her like she wasn't there. I thought, man that's rough. <br />
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Not long there after, I found out why. Apparently this is a person who "frequents" the ER with the same condition / symptoms. I got that from the doctor who came over and said "Oh, I saw you a couple days ago with the same thing. What do you think is causing it this time?". That was about the extent of the interaction she got...I was discharged from the ER before I could get to the root of that story...but who knows, if I get back in sometime, maybe I'll see her and be able to finish this putrid tale.<br />
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<h4>
ER Patient C: The Coup De Grâce </h4>
This was the most entertaining story. It happened chronologically last but I save it for those of you who have faithfully read all this way. A little gem here.... A DC ambulance rolls up to the ER and the wheel a construction road crew worker (I could tell because of his boots and high visibility vest) into the back rooms of the ER. Again, there was no pace for him so he was in the hallway with the joyful bunch of us (Patient A, Patient B, and Myself). <br />
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A hospital worker comes over to try to put a wrist band on him and admit him to the hospital. He looked at her and said, "You ain't puttin that shit on me. Hell no". She wisely decided that arguing with him was out of her scope or work and just attached it to the stretcher he was on and reported it to the charge nurse.<br />
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Moments later, the charge nurse came over with his driver's license and another wrist band. She handed him his driver's license:<br />
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Charge Nurse: "Here you go"<br />
Patient C: "You sneaky little bitch, how did you steal my wallet".</div>
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Charge Nurse: "I didn't Sir, the arresting officer took if from you."<br />
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That's when my ears perked up and I thought, this could be an interesting one. And I was a good judge of that.<br />
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Charge Nurse: "Sir, did you do any drugs today?"</div>
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Patient C: [Inaudible mumbling] clearly not 100% there.<br />
Charge Nurse: "Sir, did you do any drugs today?"<br />
Patient C: "YES!"<br />
Charge Nurse: "Can I put this armband on you for your safety?"<br />
Patient C: "No way...not putting that shit on".<br />
Charge Nurse: "Sir, we scan this when we give you medications, its for your safety"<br />
Patient C: "Ok, fine....alright".<br />
Charge Nurse: "The doctor will be over to talk to you when he can"<br />
The nurse begins to step away and walks halfway across the ER.<br />
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Patient C: "NURSE!!! NURSE!!!"<br />
The nurse comes quickly back over<br />
Charge Nurse: "Yes Sir, are you ok?"<br />
Patient C: "I need to get an HIV test"<br />
Charge Nurse: "Well, that sounds like a good idea and you should discuss it with the doctor when he's here"<br />
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Now I'm thinking....well, he's drugged up but if he was injecting, that probably is a good idea. The nurse begins to walk away before...<br />
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Patient C: "NURSE!!! NURSE!!!"<br />
The nurse comes quickly back over<br />
Charge Nurse: "Yes Sir?"<br />
Patient C: "I need to get a sperm count check too"<br />
Charge Nurse: "Sir, we don't do that here, you should talk to your primary care doctor"<br />
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At this point, Tessa and I are about to laugh our ass off but don't because this guy is drugged up, large enough to crush me into fine powdered cocaine or crack rocks (depending on who won the argument from patient A, Groupie A, and the Doctor). So we did what anyone my generation would do, we started texting on our phones to each other despite being two feet apart. I must say, the charge nurse handled it with aplomb.<br />
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Now I realize I've written a book with this post, shortly after all this I was able to keep down some crackers and ginger ale and left as quickly as we could. Let this lengthy post also represent the lengthy 8 hour visit we had on my one month anniversary.</div>
Matthew C. Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05404234502141819672noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507930315145414330.post-25212462041513241222016-07-09T12:59:00.002-07:002016-07-11T20:56:30.975-07:006/25/2016 - So how does it feel post transplant? - No pretty little pictures, just words and thoughts<b>So how does it feel post transplant?</b><br />
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I think this is the biggest question I get all the time and certainly the one I think about most. I think physically, this has been easier than I thought it would be. I spent the better part of a year, playing soccer as frequently as I could and hitting the treadmill when I skipped soccer. I took great care of my body and I was healthy. I even played a full soccer game for a Virginia Tech Alumni team in Arlington Thursday night, the day before the Friday I was called in for transplant. I felt and looked (I'm being modest) great!<br />
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Now, compare that with the many folks that I see who enter the Georgetown transplant institute who are often stuck with a much more morose case. Many people are jaundice, many people are barely able to move well or walk, many people look sick and look to be in pain. You can see from the expressions on their face, the lack of emotion and life. Whatever brought them into the transplant institute, has taken a lot out of them and it's not a pretty sight. <br />
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Think about the quality of life that you imagine these people to have and it almost makes me feel guilty that I was so healthy feeling. However, this actually I think makes is more mentally challenging on me, than on them.<br />
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I've got lofty expectations. In many of the transplant cases, the people who were hurting with a very poor quality of life, come out of transplant and feel much better, even almost immediately. Now I don't know for sure, but I would think this gives them a mental boost. When I came out of transplant, I felt much worse. I couldn't do anything on my own (even breathe). I had to be assisted to go to the bathroom. I wouldn't be playing soccer or running for months (I couldn't even imagine it then, or now, just quite yet). The drugs that I was on were significant and heavy. I was on steroids, anti rejection meds, anti bacteria meds, anti viral meds,...you name it.<br />
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The worst was the steroids. I started having huge mood swings. I would get angry....very angry with people driving recklessly in their cars even if it was not impacting me. I was sad because I could not control my emotions and I knew this was very uncharacteristic for me. I would say things that were mean. I knew they were coming out of my mouth and I did not mean it however I would just blurt out stuff without thinking.<br />
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Now I know the medicine is supposed to be leveling off in the coming months, so I'm looking forward to that and hopefully more restful sleep, more normal thoughts and feelings. All in all, i'm still very fortunate to be given such a healthy liver and fortunate to be recovering so well.<br />
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<h4>
Addendum: </h4>
Most of what was written above was written in a evening when I know I was feeling the effects of steroids (<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prednisone" target="_blank">Prednisone</a>) which is known for it's numerous side effects. Also, as my wife pointed out but I have not mentioned yet, the pathology report came back for the old (removed) liver. It turns out I really really needed the liver as a third tumor was forming and was noted in the pathology report. Had it developed more and been detected in testing, might possibly have meant, that I would not have been eligible for the liver transplant because of the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Milan_criteria" target="_blank">Milan Criteria</a>. This rule exists so they don't "throw away" a good liver on someone who has had the cancer spread enough to where the organ might not provide a "successful outcome".Matthew C. Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05404234502141819672noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507930315145414330.post-77370052507717047112016-06-24T21:51:00.001-07:002016-06-24T21:51:45.329-07:006/20/2016 - Liver Levels & Partial Staple RemovalToday was the first time I had been in the Hospital since last week. It was the longest amount of time I had gone without seeing a doctor and checking my blood levels. I was excited and slightly nervous about this<br />
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Twice in the past week, I had gotten splitting headaches and slept a lot. I just wanted to be a dark, cold, and quiet room. Since you know I have twins, quiet is not normally an option. Thank the lord "Tita Shelly" is here to help Tessa. I was able to crawl back into my room, put a pillow over my head, and crash. This morning, I felt much better but I had decided to mention it at my latest check-up.<br />
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The bloodwork came back and I was "abnormally normal". That's good! She said it was odd to have most of my labwork look so normal. For instance, my platelet count (due to the new liver) was actually in the "acceptable range". With my old liver, I would consistently see platelet counts of 60-90k. (Normal is 150k - 400k). I don't ever recall having a count over 100k since my liver had deteriorated.<br />
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My ALT and AST, both of which measure the liver function, were in the normal ranges as well. This was also a relief after the previous weeks where there was some concern if the liver was rejecting because of some higher levels. This was not the case today, phew!<br />
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I did get an e-mail later in the day where I was told that my Prograff levels (Prograff is the drug that prevents rejection) was very high and this can sometimes cause headaches. I was instructed to skip my evening dosage and the dosage the next morning and then resume with 1mg less (so 6mg in total) of the Prograff. I'm going to follow the doctors orders and then go back in on Thursday, 6/23 for more blood work and hopefully, I'm back in line with where they want me to be. I don't think I should be too concerned here as they told me there is some gaming of the levels that occurs with all patients. They also told me I needed to take another magnesium pill as I was low in magnesium (usually due to the Prograff). This will take me to 4 total, 2 in the morning, two for dinner.<br />
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Now, we know you're mostly reading because you want to hear about the staples and see pictures, right? Well, I have 50 staples in total (I keep wanting to sing 50 nifty United States and 13 original colonies....). I keep wondering if they have the staples in packs of 10 or packs of 25. I mean, 50 is such a nice even number. <br />
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Today they had decided to remove half of them, so the pulled roughly 25 out. There were a couple that were on my old scar from when I had my kidney removed in 1987 so they were more painful and I had her leave them in until my next visit, at my request. Why pull staples today if I can delay them until next week!!!<br />
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What exactly are you looking at? See below:<br />
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<br />Matthew C. Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05404234502141819672noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507930315145414330.post-70689201246078675002016-06-07T20:51:00.000-07:002016-06-24T21:29:50.300-07:006/7/2016 - The Before and Afters - Scars & StaplesPrior to my transplant I had some pretty awesome scars. Most were from the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wilms%27_tumor" target="_blank">Wilms Tumor</a> removal that was attached to my right kidney when I was 7 (or peripheral operations for it). Then, when I was found to have Basel Cell carcinoma, they had to remove several moles. I digress, the point was to set the expectations of my "before" shots so then you can compare with my "after" shots. <div>
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Either way, lets just say that I often make people uncomfortable when I play soccer shirts vs skins or when I'm in a swimming pool and it will likely be even more so now.....of course it doesn't bother me in the least and usually makes a fine conversation starter or I can kill conversations.</div>
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Example of a conversation starter:</div>
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Random A: "Wow, that's a huge scar...is there a story behind it?"</div>
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Me: "Kidney taken out from cancer when I was 7"</div>
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Random A: "No kidding, hey, I had x, y, z cancer and so did my friend...."</div>
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Example of conversation stopper:</div>
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Random B: "What the hell happened to you?"</div>
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Me: "Gang fight in Florida, I was slashed pretty bad." [Flaring my nostrils when talking]</div>
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Random B: "That sucks" [Backing up to pull a fade away like nothing ever happened]</div>
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<<Insert Before Pics, will hopefully update when I can locate them>></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Obviously thrilled, but you can see part of the scar and staples (50 staples in total in addition to internal "dissoluble stitches")</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You can see the overlap of the scars the tried to keep at a minimum. This was after discharge and the drains had been pulled out (Gauze covering drain holes)</td></tr>
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What's under the gauze you wonder? Oh, I'll show you that too....it's where a vampire bit me</div>
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I'd like to say they shaved my chest, but I'm not really that hairy so they didn't do much there. They did shave my left armpit and my nether-regions. Actually not sure why unless they just like to mess with me because the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Foley_catheter" target="_blank">foley</a> they could have put in either way. (Don't click on foley link while eating).</div>
Matthew C. Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05404234502141819672noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507930315145414330.post-58142585671029600832016-06-04T16:15:00.000-07:002016-06-11T16:10:11.555-07:006/4/2016 - The White DischargeAs gross as the sound of that is, it made me laugh. <br />
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On Saturday June 4th, I was slated to be discharged (read the previous post). I had blood taken during the 5am blood-work checks prior to residents rounds, to see what my liver enzyme and liver rejection levels were. Both appeared ok but they did tweak my pill list to add another milligram of Prograf (one more pill, isn't the end of the world when you're already taking so many), The attending Physician made rounds and signed that it was OK for me to head home. Even though he did this early in the day (~9am), I knew it would be after 3pm when discharged. Turns out, it was actually 7pm and right in the middle of the shift change for any of the 12 hour staffers (which is many of the SICU folks who were caring for me).<br />
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I still was able to have all 3 meals in the hospital. We were joking one day, because I ate what my good friend Blair referred to as "gray beef" for dinner. I think I was making them sick but I was so hungry I just shoveled anything in my mouth that I could.<br />
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ICU policy states that you have to have at least two viable IVs in at all times in case things go bad. The very last step of discharge is to pull the IVs. I had a couple of the usual needles in and then they had the gauge a Hi-C juice box drink straw sized IVs. In these cases, they're long plastic tubes in your veins and they literally leave a hole in your arm or neck or wherever they're pulled out. You can see below the arm hair they took off then they pulled this guy out. Felt super good after it was out though!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Keeping the hole under pressure and elevated to make sure it's not gonna bleed.</td></tr>
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One of the harder things that we had to do was pull off my wedding band when I went under. I really wanted to keep it on but two reasons why they did not allow it. 1) Your hands swell when you have all this trauma and they pump you full of fluids and 2) They want to scrub you in and make sure no germs are anywhere on you. So, after the swelling was down and I was ready for discharge, the Ladies of the ICU (the wives of the many men in there) would all wear rings around their necklaces. It was like the Bad Luck Club (my twist on the Joy Luck Club). <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Luckily, she agreed to marry me again and I got my ring back</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ring back on, and back down to my weight from Senior year in High School, 180lbs. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUua4AYH5sUpT6k7QCkmf2skoGSVPKLYfTC-EW2kt-Qr3KIBq7PqvcgNtwLP0GnP86z6GKoy7UuoReYi-piKFZM9Raad8q_07I2-UJ2qff4SJ5wuvuRhHXVNP0C0m640O75rEA2_pZ0WE/s1600/IMG_8584.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUua4AYH5sUpT6k7QCkmf2skoGSVPKLYfTC-EW2kt-Qr3KIBq7PqvcgNtwLP0GnP86z6GKoy7UuoReYi-piKFZM9Raad8q_07I2-UJ2qff4SJ5wuvuRhHXVNP0C0m640O75rEA2_pZ0WE/s400/IMG_8584.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A<span style="font-size: small;">lso saying goodbye to my green morphine button. I could push it every 10 mins, it would push a drug drip right into my mainline. It was pretty good, helped relax me. I liked this much better than the other narcotics they would give me later that made the room feel like it was a giant moving ceiling of Tetris blocks.</span></td></tr>
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Matthew C. Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05404234502141819672noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507930315145414330.post-2551642796588021972016-06-03T16:29:00.000-07:002016-06-08T12:47:59.955-07:006/3/2016 - The New Liver Orientation & The JuiceboxOn Thursday the 2nd, during the early morning rounds, I was told that I might be discharged on Friday the 3rd of June.<br />
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Accomplishments to that point:<br />
1) I had taken no blood during transplant (very rare occurrence given all the medical problems people have driving them to transplant)<br />
2) I had been able to fart (which every woman who has delivered via C-section will tell you means you can now have solid foods... a hallelujah moment)<br />
3) I had been able to get to my feet (although I was moving at the speed of an elderly person in a walker across a gravel road).<br />
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One more condition that would have to met for me to go home, Tessa and I would have to take a 1 hour class on new organ care. They would discuss the copious new drugs I would be on, their side effects, their dosages. What to do if I missed a dose and was under or over 4 hours from the time I was supposed to take my meds.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Note this is only page 1, you get the idea</td></tr>
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Additionally, I would learn what diet I should follow and specifically to avoid grapefruit (toxic to liver and interferes with any liver filtered meds). I should stay away from shell-fish, raw-fish, and under cooked meats.<br />
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They told me they didn't have any rooms in the "Step down" unit in 6 BLES and that I was the best case they had seen in a long while. Both Tessa and I felt very uneasy, after all, I could still barely walk (I was wheeled to my drug class), and I was still having my medicines changed daily after 5:00am bloodwork came back to fine tune my reaction to the meds. Our concern was that, we didn't feel we know how to care for me at home yet and that we didn't have access to the daily labs. I still had a <a href="https://www.kaahe.org/health/en/155-jp-drain/all.html" target="_blank">Jackson-Pratt Drain</a> in my right side that I dubbed "The Juicebox" which looked like one of those grenades full of Fruit Juice you would buy on Bourbon street in New Orleans. Since we disagreed with the Friday discharge we formulated some talking points and were going to be talking to the doctors in the morning.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBuh8dVY5Kc7AyGZPFNIyw3suL1GN0nzHiFle6XpMRFLm3cyv4pNDjwYDGJmvW3G8iuUq4WSzN8VOXls9jF3SyFLGsuQf09daGOtUQLbDv20wu28EqJhuxEHLKEEsgQruFIm8sfA8-ewI/s1600/IMG_3316.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="145" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBuh8dVY5Kc7AyGZPFNIyw3suL1GN0nzHiFle6XpMRFLm3cyv4pNDjwYDGJmvW3G8iuUq4WSzN8VOXls9jF3SyFLGsuQf09daGOtUQLbDv20wu28EqJhuxEHLKEEsgQruFIm8sfA8-ewI/s640/IMG_3316.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was a pano of my room for the duration of my hospital recovery (Surgical Intensive Care Unit)</td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
They wanted Friday, June 3rd, discharge and we were thinking Sunday / Monday. When they made their next rounds, we agreed to split the difference. We would both target a post 3pm Saturday June 4th discharge.<br />
<br />
Over the next 24 hours, Tessa learned how to measure and empty fluid from my JP drain, how to dress it, and all about meds. This would at least position us to be more comfortable if we had to head home in the current state (assuming no day to day improvement or drain removal).Matthew C. Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05404234502141819672noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507930315145414330.post-58413654013642987872016-06-02T04:11:00.001-07:002016-06-02T04:11:59.678-07:006/2/2016 - An update from A bed with no sleep numberThis is Whitey from his phone. I'm not sure typing from the ICU on your phone is recommended but I want to let everyone in on the latest.<div><br></div><div>Last couple of days have been physically and mentally draining. I can't wish this hardship on anyone. My body has held up pretty well from everything as best as I can tell. I've got some heavily bruised track marks in my arms so I may to push off any formal gala invitations for a couple of months. (Trying here). I have found that my glowing ET finger (from its connected pulse/oxygen sensor) makes a pretty suitable bed urinal night light so for for those with frequent bathroom breaks at night and potential sleep apnea, it could be a good tool for you.</div><div><br></div><div>Now, let me start apologizing. I have kept my phone off nearly this whole time because it's hard for me to deal with everything as is. I do try to FaceTime my kids (and try not to scare them when I do). I've not been getting much sleep so I've been grumpy to my family especially my wife which I apologize profusely for. I know what I'm going through but I know she has to glue our whole family together and still deal with me, a superwoman feat. She's been doing great!</div><div><br></div><div>Naturally, I need to thank the outpouring of support of every type. We read all messages even if we don't respond. I know on the Homefront the meals have helped alleviate stress, and your generous contribution certainly makes me focus more on my recovery and worry less about bills / insurance / parking / meals, etc.</div><div><br></div><div>As of today, I was able to get out of bed yesterday evening and walk an early lap around the ICU. Apparently people take way longer to respond as favorably (toot toot). There is currently a "red light code" which means all available beds are at 100% capacity. If a bed becomes available today up on 6 BLES, they will likely move me. This would be great because the ICU care, while excellent, is high touch and monitor but I feel like I need a solid nights sleep.</div><div><br></div><div>As of 6am this morning, that's the update I have.</div><div><br></div><div>My many thanks again for continued prayers, outreach, and support.</div><div><br></div><div>Lovingly - The Figther</div>Matthew C. Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05404234502141819672noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507930315145414330.post-56262942258884399952016-05-30T10:07:00.000-07:002016-06-10T17:17:41.231-07:005/30/2016 - From the ICU BedHere is the update from today! Sorry for typos and whatnot, but we are working from an iPhone:<br />
<br />
Hi! So yesterday after the transplant, I didn't update bc it was just kind of shocking.<br />
<br />
He had a central line in his neck with 4 ports going in and one in his groin. He has 2 drainage tubes for blood out of his stomach. A ventilator. His arms were restrained down to the bed so he wouldn't move and try to pull out the ventilator. A tube from his stomach to drain blood and stomach secretions. And multiple IVs in his arms. He was extremely swollen, and the meds that they have to "sedate" him, actually put him in a medically induced coma. He wasn't responsive at all. Pale grayish in color. He had blood around his nostrils, which indicated that he had a nose bleed on the table.<br />
<br />
They did an ultrasound to take a look at the new gear (liver)... And in his unresponsive state, his entire face crumpled up and he started moving his legs, indicating a ton of pain. It was pretty disturbing to see. And I made him stop and give him more pain meds.<br />
<br />
I honestly didn't know how to feel because it was so shocking.<br />
<br />
Anyway, today is a new day. This morning, he passed his spontaneous breathing test (amazing!). So they were able to take him off the ventilator, and he was responsive! His first notes he wrote were saying that the ventilator was annoying. :). He has been in and out, but his color is getting better. He feels super heavy, and swollen, and his arms are heavy and he isn't in control which frustrates him. They also gave him a morphine button.... Which we keep have to remind him to push, bc he is so stubborn ;)<br />
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He also told me that he needs to pee... And I smiled and told him he has a catheter and a bag so he was covered.<br />
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He told me that mentally he was all there (uhhh... I say somewhat only!) but his body isn't catching up.<br />
<br />
Now they are about to take the central lines out of his neck and groin. And when they do, he will start to breathe into this spirometer, so that he won't get pneumonia. And the arm restraints are gone.<br />
<br />
His new liver is responding well! His function numbers are good and going down (a great sign that it is working!).<br />
<br />
We also got the end of the bed taken off, bc he is so tall. Hahah.<br />
<br />
It has been a crazy crazy ride. And fortunately, I was able to get home last night to help<br />
Put the twins to bed. I'm exhausted, but it is worth it. But, we are getting through it. It is amazing to see him responding and talking to us. It is getting Better every hour.<br />
<br />
I was finally able to breathe this morning when I saw him, because he gave me a sign. When we first started dating, before we told each other that we loved each other, I used to squeeze his hand 3 times... It was my way of telling him "I love you" and he would squeeze back.<br />
<br />
I told him later what the 3 squeezes meant. And ever since then, he would always respond with 4 squeezes for "I love you too." <br />
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This morning, when i thought he was asleep, I gave his hand 3 squeezes... And he squeezed back 4 times. And it was then that I realized that i finally exhaled... And that it will be okay. And we will be fine<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02515709504433401730noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507930315145414330.post-56892416842580411682016-05-29T03:00:00.000-07:002016-07-16T08:38:04.038-07:005/29/2016 - A Post to all while I'm under the knifeThe beauty of technology is helping to make us feel more connected and more supported. Many of you have reached out to add your support to our on-line coordinated support site, Lots-a-helping-hands. If you have not and you want to, please navigate to the link: <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=https://www.lotsahelpinghands.com/c/729068/&source=gmail&ust=1464548077038000&usg=AFQjCNHCxeCVeu3IqOv3ykZHQHoU7nHFaw" href="https://www.lotsahelpinghands.com/c/729068/" style="background-color: white; color: #1155cc; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" target="_blank">https://www.lotsahelpinghands.<wbr></wbr>com/c/729068/</a><br />
<br />
I'm able to write this post now hours ahead of the surgery, and schedule it for when I go under. Like a new age message in a bottle.<br />
<br />
I can tell you already that my family and friends, that closely surround me, will be exhausted. I can tell you that I will be in pain (after having an organ taken out when I was 7). I'll can tell you that I'll be grumpy, groggy, and I likely won't feel like doing much. <br />
<br />
I hope my kids understand and do not get upset with me, I know they need their daddy, and I know my wife needs her husband. That's why I need each of you to step up as best you can while I can't.<br />
<br />
The out-pour of help is great, the texts, the e-mails, and the meals.....just keep in mind, this is a marathon. When summer picks up and you all are enjoying it ... we would love to be carefree and healthy to enjoy it with you. If we can't this year, we at least want to be smiling with you all. Just check in with us, share photos of your kids smiling, eating ice cream, call Tessa to check to see if she's doing ok. I mean that. Go ahead, use your google calendar to setup a random reminder or two over the next 3 months to ping her and talk. I'm challenging you to that.<br />
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As for me, Tessa can attest that I've got a pile of 10 books or so that I need to get through, several shows I can binge watch, and need to keep as strong and healthy as I can. I will likely try to isolate myself until my immuno-suppressant meds and I meet at an agreeable place and stabilize over the coming months. I will be very cautious of visitors and seeing if I can keep my kids as healthy as possible. If our kids get sick then I will need to be isolated from them too. I anticipate this to be the most crushing when I recover. Don't take it personally, it's all business.<br />
<b><u><br /></u></b>
<b><u>To my mother, father, and sister:</u></b><br />
I love you all more than you know and appreciate everything you have offered to me over time. How caring and understanding you all have been for all the medical crap I've had to deal with. I know it's upsetting to you all but you've been good sports and life has actually played out swimmingly well minus this setback.....such a far cry from what I thought might happen when I was 7. I'm going to fight this as battle as best I can. Keep Tessa Surrounded with your love, I'm so happy you're in our neighborhood now.<br />
<br />
<b><u>To Tessa, Leila, Eli:</u></b><br />
You all mean the world to me. God willing, we'll all get through this together. They say the odds are way in my favor and so we have to believe in that and trust the skilled hands of the surgeons and hospital workers. I know it's hard when we want to control things, but we can't. So, we focus on things we can. Tessa, reminder to setup kids doctors so other care takers can take them to appointments if needed. Lean on my family and yours, lean on Lara, lean on Tita Shelly and GG, lean on all of those folks who are strong while it's hard for you. They will keep us all afloat.<br />
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To change your organ donation status (Thanks Morgan!):<br />
<a href="http://www.dmv.state.va.us/drivers/#organs.asp">http://www.dmv.state.va.us/drivers/#organs.asp</a>Matthew C. Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05404234502141819672noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507930315145414330.post-66548215730913439522016-05-28T17:00:00.000-07:002016-05-28T17:00:00.152-07:005/28/2016 - The Latest...like an plane in O'Hare....delayedAround lunch, the surgeon came in to tell me that the organ donor harvesting team had not yet assembled to remove the organs (they harvest many organs from the donor to save as many people as possible). They anticipate that to start at 11pm EST on 5/28. With the removal taking some hours, and then the liver needing a biopsy, I'm scheduled to be on the OR table at 5AM 5/29. Of course, any or all of this is still subject to change.<br />
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The best news is that I was able to eat lunch (up to this point I was Starvin' Marvin). My metabolism has been geared up because I played soccer night before last (crazy to think that), and I didn't eat for 14 hours. Lunch is in my belly now and I've been told I can have a light dinner which I'm excited about too. Tessa got me some dark chocolate so I'm all set to watch the Champions League final from my bed at the hospital. </div>
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The kids are able to come and visit so I can see them before I get too beat up and so I can try again to explain what's going on to them.<br />
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Thanks for your continued notes, thoughts, and prayers as we wait. (Also, thank you all for signing up on the site listed in the previous blog post).</div>
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Best,</div>
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Matt</div>
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PS - Funny or Not Funny? When the nurse was checking me in last night asking what valuables I had, the mood was pretty dark. I said calmly, Laptop, Cell Phone, Charging cords, and $25,000 in cash. She shot a look over at me and I was smiling....my wife was not amused but I was laughing at it.</div>
Matthew C. Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05404234502141819672noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507930315145414330.post-9699274896081975462016-05-28T08:48:00.001-07:002016-05-28T08:48:22.632-07:005/28/2016 - Turn Shit into Sugar: Opportunism<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gBxWYVBCOZo">Have you ever seen the Geico commercial</a>, where the former NFL player, Ickey Woods is at the grocery deli? And when his ticket number is called, he starts doing this touch down dance yelling "wool! 44 that's me!! Get some cold cuts! Get some cold cuts!! Wooo!"? <br />
<br />
We love that commercial. If you see Leila, she will actually say it for you. Makes us laugh all the time. But I digress. <br />
<br />
Well. Last night after we put the kids to bed, that was us. Our number finally got called. We got our second call from The Georgetown Liver Transplant Coordinator at 10:32pm. A 33 year old woman, local, around the same size as Matt, healthy, low risk... Unfortunately had a stroke while having a c-section, and passed away. She was listed as an organ donor. She qualified as a perfect match for Whitey.<br />
<br />
(I know. It is hard to even write that down as parents... Much less to be joyful that that is our option. But, that is our reality.)<br />
<br />
Anyway, Matt is the primary recipient of her liver, and there is a secondary recipient and possible tertiary recipient waiting for it here at Georgetown, in case last minute Matt does not qualify. We immediately called Matt's parents and Bill (my father in law) came over immediately to watch the kids overnight. <br />
<br />
We woke the kids up, and did a White family hug. Told them that we loved them, and that daddy is going to the hospital. Eli didn't seem to understand, but Leila looked pretty concerned. <br />
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We got into the cancer car, and got over to the Georgetown ER. Matt only went through one semi red light. (I'd call that a win!!). We stepped into the ER, and I swear, I have never seen such service at a hospital. They were waiting for him, and we walked right up to the transplant floor. We did the paperwork from bed.<br />
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They did another chest X-ray, EKG, and then blood work to make sure again that Matt's antibodies matched the donor. (My Lord. All the tubes. Insanity...) Then they did the IV. For some reason, they had to get Matt 5 times before they got a good IV started. His kept "blowing out" and his vein would disappear. I felt awful for him. <br />
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By the time that was all done, we were sitting in the bed at 3am... Laying in the bed together, trying to get some rest. <br />
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I'd doze off, and look over at Matt. Usually his eyes were open and he would smile at me. Or tell me he loved me, and we would try and go back to sleep. We finally got a few hours in here and there. We actually were pretty comfy all snuggled up on the hospital bed.... Which is nice considering that this will probably be the last night we can sleep like that. <br />
<br />
Anyway, I'm babbling. The surgeon, Dr. Alexander Helmut Kurt Kroemer MD (very direct. German <img src="https://mail.google.com/mail/e/1f600" />) told us that the organ was still in the donor, and they would be testing and evaluating today. He examined Matt, and said that the procedure would be more complicated due to his existing scars... So it would likely be an 8hour+ transplant. He wouldn't give us more information, but said it would likely be around 10pm tonight. <br />
<br />
Fingers crossed that this works. It is a lot of hurry up and wait. <br />
<br />
For now, we are both a little on edge, but have received all of your calls, texts, Facebook messages, emails, etc. cheering Matt on. You have no clue how much it means to us. It makes us smile... Especially now in the waiting stage. <br />
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12 hours in from the initial call... And it seems like an eternity, but oddly enough time is standing still. Does that make sense? <br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 0); font-size: small; font-style: inherit;">Many of you have asked how you can help. Our dear friend Lara McCauley has set up a website to help us out. </span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">If you are interested in helping in some way (having a meal delivered, driving, helping with the kids, mowing the grass while I'm not able to, helping take out the trash, providing money for parking (it's pay parking only which drives me nuts)</span></div>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 0); color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><br />Go to our Community web address: </span><br />
<ol style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">
<li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em 15px; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=https://www.lotsahelpinghands.com/c/729068/&source=gmail&ust=1464535054604000&usg=AFQjCNG18t-YiVuKqbpNbJUBRKq-azzVQQ" href="https://www.lotsahelpinghands.com/c/729068/" style="color: #1155cc; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">https://www.lotsahelpinghands.<wbr></wbr>com/c/729068/</a><br /><br />Instruct the people you've invited to use the ‘Join this Community’ link to fill out the form which is a <strong>Request to Join the Community</strong>. Once they've done this, Whitey, Tessa, and Lara will receive emails stating that there are ‘Pending Members’. Members will be automatically notified and provided instructions for signing in to the Community.</span></span></li>
</ol>
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<span style="font-size: small;">That's it for now. They have given Matt the okay to eat until lunch. So I am on the way to get him something delicious. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Lots of love, </span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Tessa</span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02515709504433401730noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507930315145414330.post-6966665095225603752016-05-24T13:21:00.000-07:002016-05-24T13:21:04.079-07:005/24/2016 - Upgraded MELD... and no news.<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal; margin: 0.75em 0px 0px; position: relative;">
</h3>
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I realize it's been a while. One of my best friends and I caught up with an old high school buddy of mine who is moving out of the area with his family. This was maybe two weeks back. he is a pretty quiet guy and we were in the car driving headed to a DC United game. I still distinctly remember him squeezing my shoulder and saying "Hey man, I read the blog, and appreciate the updates. It doesn't even have to be long winded. Just a short note to let us all know you're ok and what's up".</div>
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I'll do my best to hold myself to that, because there is always stuff going on and I would like to keep people better informed.</div>
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My <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Model_for_End-Stage_Liver_Disease" target="_blank">MELD </a>was increased from a 29 to a 31 effective on May 18th. It's good that my MELD is higher because it cuts the chances that someone can leapfrog me in my wait-list status. Having said that, I'm still waiting with no new calls or offers. There was no "A" blood type transplants done in the last week. My first transplant coordinator who was out on maternity leave may or may not be back, I'll know more in Mid-July. She's really cool though and it would be nice if she did return. The person who has covered me while my primary coordinator is out, is good too but it would be good to keep all the history. <br />
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Lastly, I've had lots of requests for people asking how they can help when the transplant occurs. For the first 2-3 days, I won't be able to talk, will be on ventilator likely, and pretty much a vegetable. There won't be a lot that people can do immediately as I'll be in the hospital for 10 days before home, but in the weeks following, we will. Our good friend Lara has setup a website (<a href="http://lotsahelpinghands.com/how-it-works/">http://lotsahelpinghands.com/how-it-works/</a> ) that you can register with if you might be interested in helping. It will keep people organised so meals don't overlap and also so my immediate family can concentrate on our family unit and don't have to worry about logistics. See below:<br />
<br />
If you are interested in helping in some way (having a meal delivered, mowing the grass while I'm not able to, helping Tessa take out the trash, providing money for parking (it's pay parking only which drives me nuts))<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Go to our Community web address:</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> </span><br />
<ol style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">
<li style="margin-left: 15px;"><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=https://www.lotsahelpinghands.com/c/729068/&source=gmail&ust=1464097243711000&usg=AFQjCNFCcDs8678dzJV6xC1v5Nsg1xlA6A" href="https://www.lotsahelpinghands.com/c/729068/" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">https://www.lotsahelpinghands.<wbr></wbr>com/c/729068/</a><br /><br />Instruct the people you've invited to use the ‘Join this Community’ link to fill out the form which is a <strong>Request to Join the Community</strong>. Once they've done this, Whitey, Tessa, and Lara will receive emails stating that there are ‘Pending Members’. Members will be automatically notified and provided instructions for signing in to the Community.</li>
</ol>
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6C_k3qIAzRDugUWvB-EccpKANhf7yThvXZso8PXaOiCNEC8XtwikOmoKm43B3QhZ3iiFoQ7n2CH0MabpYO8qmhXloxvd388vQuxDbGiy7nT__wOGu8omk7MfYxgLPTDxMw4LzON1ADjU/s1600/IMG_3247.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6C_k3qIAzRDugUWvB-EccpKANhf7yThvXZso8PXaOiCNEC8XtwikOmoKm43B3QhZ3iiFoQ7n2CH0MabpYO8qmhXloxvd388vQuxDbGiy7nT__wOGu8omk7MfYxgLPTDxMw4LzON1ADjU/s320/IMG_3247.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
Matthew C. Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05404234502141819672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507930315145414330.post-26450339165567023492016-03-26T09:14:00.000-07:002016-05-09T17:06:31.486-07:003/25/2016 - The First Offer... and Rejection<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">For those of you who know me, you know I have a ridiculous sense of humor. I could be mistaken for a 12 year old boy if anyone were to make realistic comparisons to my juvenile humor. A good flatulence/body part/potty joke has been known to literally send me into happy tears and laughing so hard my stomach aches. Yes, I do realize that I am now in my mid 30s and a mom, yet sadly, my humor has not matured with my actual age. I don't believe it ever will, and I am okay with that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">That being said, one of my all time favorite games is called "What would you rather?" As the name suggests, you and a friend (or group as it often goes) ask each other a series of questions. You are given two equally bad questions, and the other person must choose. The only rule is that you aren't allowed to answer, "neither" nor "both." Simple enough, right? Usually, these things start off tame:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Would you rather be poor but gorgeous, or a millionaire and unfortunate looking?" (Easy, a millionaire. Plastic surgery is always an option. Obviously.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Would you rather listen to Nickelback every second for the rest of your life or......_______?" (Even easier. You ALWAYS choose against Nickelback. That band sucks.) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As time goes on, depending on how well you know the person/people you are playing with, and the presence of adult beverages, the questions usually can get pretty hysterical/disgusting/all of the above, on all levels. That is usually when I have the most fun. (By the way, if you have some really great ones, bring it on. I will make sure to answer! I am not easily offended!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So why am I even telling you this about me? Well, Friday night, 3/25/16 at 11:10pm, Matt (and therefore I) got the biggest What Would You Rather question of our lives.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> As we have written about before, Whitey has a pretty high MELD score. This means that he is high up on the list for receiving offers for liver transplant. Because of this, we usually keep our phones on us at all times. We never know when "the call" can come. Tonight it did.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I was watching DVR'ed Scandal in the basement, and Whitey comes barreling down the steps. I swear, it sounded like a herd of elephants racing down the stairs. He looked pretty pale and put the phone on speaker. A lady named Kristin was on the phone with him, and posed the offer:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Which would you rather: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">1. A male, approximately your age is now brain dead, and on life support at Georgetown Hospital. He is your blood type. As of now, he is considered healthy. He does not <u>at this point</u> have known HIV or HepC, but he is considered a "high risk donor." In the last 12 months, he has been in prison for 9 months. He is known to be an IV drug user. If you would like to take this offer, you should start coming to the hospital.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">OR</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">2. You can decline this offer, it will not negatively affect your place in line, but you will be taken off as a candidate for this case and we will move on. It could be next week, or months from now when we will call you again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It just took us 2 seconds to look into each other's eyes and come to decision number 2. And in those 2 seconds, I realized "$h1zz has gotten REAL." We had just gotten our first offer for a liver. We had been waiting for this call since the end of April 2015... and almost a year later, here we go. And we said no. Are we crazy? Or was this the right choice?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So you probably have questions. We did, too. We always do. Even though we knew the answers, it was good to ask them again for reassurance and good measure. Therefore, I will try and answer the ones we had for you.</span></div>
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<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">High Risk Donors</b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">: As a general rule, we aren't supposed to know much information about the possible donors. But, if a donor is considered "high risk," then the hospital needs to inform us of that information. Which criteria render a donor "high risk?":</span></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">History of Hepatitis C. (Yes. Many patients who are in Matt's shoes already have HepC, so receiving a liver from a donor who tests positive is a possibility. We already decided a year ago that this would NOT be an option for us, unless we are in dire straits. Given that the treatment was successful for Whitey, and he no longer has the virus, we would no longer want to consider this as a viable option.)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Known IV drug user</span></li>
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<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Men who have sex with men (Which I have my own opinions on. I would GLADLY agree to take any healthy organ, from a healthy person, regardless of sexual orientation/race/religion/sex. I am sure Whitey is on the same page.)</span></li>
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<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Been in jail </span></li>
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<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Prostitutes</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>What percentage of donors are high risk?</b> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There is no firm answer on this, but Kristen said that she can say about 25% of donors are high risk. Was Whitey called because other candidates rejected the offer? No. He was the first person they called to offer.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Whitey's position on "the List"</b> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> We were told again that "the List" is an ever fluid entity. As we discussed before, his MELD score is a 29, and will be going to a 30 in about a month and change. Yes, a 30 is definitely high up there. But, there are many factors that change his position. This was the actual example she gave us: A person decides to go to the woods and eats a lethal amount of mushrooms in the woods. He or she is admitted into the hospital because of liver failure and needs a transplant immediately to live. Even if a liver comes up with Whitey's blood type today, tomorrow the mushroom eater will get the liver. It is all on an as need basis. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sidenote: I personally believe that that person is a moron, and shouldn't be eating mushrooms off the forest ground anyway. That's unsanitary. They should have packed the right amount of food and beverage, like Whitey does before any hike, and they wouldn't have been in that situation. Obviously my</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> husband is smarter than this person.... and deserves it more. Hahaha! I kid.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But yes. As of 3/25/16 at 11:10pm, he was number one.... like he always is in my book. Okay, that was mushy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Will rejecting this offer negatively affect his place in line, or future offers?</b> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">No, declining any offer for whatever reason does NOT have any bearing on future offers. Whitey can reject because the donor is high risk. He can decline the offer because he has been sick. He can decline the offer because we cannot get to the hospital on time. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">No situation or circumstance will change this.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Was this the biggest mistake we have ever made?</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Did we just make the biggest freaking mistake of our lives? I know I went to bed last night asking myself that question over and over again. I woke up this morning, while Whitey was playing soccer, and asked myself again when I first opened my eyes. And I haven't stopped thinking about it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Whitey could be in surgery right now. Instead, he played soccer this morning, and is now bathing the kiddos. Like this is any other day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Did we just look a gift horse in the mouth? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As the old saying goes, "A bird in the hand is worth 2 in the bush." Whitey is a huge fan of this idiom. Meaning, it is better to have a lesser but certain advantage, than the possibility of a greater one that may come to nothing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Knowing that Whitey just had his last MRI and series of tests on Monday, and the results came back favorably, I regret nothing....</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">...I think. Damn it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We need to have these conversations. Pronto. If we are months or another year from now, and he is in worse shape, we definitely would have a longer conversation. Since we are still relatively okay, I am okay with the decision.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Ha! Man, if I had the answer for this, 99% of my stress and anxiety would be gone! Please tell me if you have this answer. Seriously....</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Basically, more of the same. We still wait... yet now, the temperature has gone from warm to a full on simmer. We are on high alert as we can get the call again. This can be tomorrow, it could be another year from now. We can get multiple calls like the ones we just got. We can go into the hospital, and find out last minute that it won't work out. (God, I hope not. This wait is like cruel and unusual punishment on our hearts.) On the other hand, I want Whitey and our family to live our life normally. You take this away from us, and I swear, we are the happiest 4 people imaginable, in our cute little life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Stupid effing cancer.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We will be definitely staying very close to home and the hospital. Kristen told us that many patients ask for a letter saying that they are speeding/on 66 HOV at the wrong time because they are on the way to the hospital for a transplant. Let me tell you... I DARE a police officer to give me a ticket for speeding there. Try me. I'd probably ask them for a police escort on the double instead. Hahaha, I can be very convincing. (Did I ever tell you I was in sales?!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We do ask for continued support, prayers, etc. It brightens our lives for sure. If you see us, we are going to be pretty militant about making sure everyone is as healthy as possible. We do NOT want to have to decline a great offer because Whitey is sick. That would would break my heart. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I am most scared for Whitey, and pray every minute that this operation will be a success. Before, during, and after. It haunts me... and I need to tell myself constantly to be thankful for this borrowed time before the surgery... as life will undoubtedly change </span>after surgery. (I am sure for the better!) </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Most of all, I am sure we will be holding the twins and onto each other a little tighter. Part of me is really glad that they are still so young. This way, they will not remember this time. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My heart literally aches knowing that the kids will not be able to see their daddy for the time he is in the hospital recovering.... they literally adore Whitey. I wonder how my 2.5 year olds will understand that they need to be extremely gentle around the daddy who they climb on to give hugs and kisses to, every change they get. More so, I am sad that Whitey won't be seeing THEM. At the end of the day, I think we need them more than they need us. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It will be a tough time. And we just got a huge dose of reality tonight. But, this is all for the best. And I have faith... I will always have faith in my husband. I am told every day by different people that he is their hero, and that they are inspired by his strength and love of life. They are right. He is brave, he is a bad ass, and he deserves the BEST life. Period. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We will have that. Very soon. Until then, we have infinite love for each other.... and if waiting ever gets boring, I can always rely on my trusty games of What Would You Rather. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">xoxo, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Tessa</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Had to leave the cutest pic of our little homies </span></td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02515709504433401730noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507930315145414330.post-6402984805441723842016-03-23T15:14:00.000-07:002016-03-26T09:07:12.091-07:003/22/2016 - Phone Call ResultsI took the day off for my tests yesterday and another day today to really be off for a day. Tessa and I had taken the kids to lunch and were headed to look for a new sofa. In the middle of browisng, I got a 202 call (DC area code). <br />
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Now, anytime I get an unknown 202 area code, I always pick up. It could be the call for either transplant or it could be my doctor. I scurried away while holding Eli who was resting on my shoulder and found a quiet corner. It was the office of my Transplant Hepatologist calling with good news. CT of the chest was clear (no spread), and no meaningful changes in the two tumors in my liver. I felt a huge sigh of relief and then walked back to convey the news to Tessa.</div>
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Every call, you always fear the worst but I've been really lucky with treatment and monitoring so-far. I just wanted to share the good news.</div>
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When I get a hard-copy of the results, I parse through them like I do with the Fed's Meeting Minutes on interest rate policy. Until then....or the next update.....</div>
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~Me</div>
Matthew C. Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05404234502141819672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507930315145414330.post-87125553049074152392016-03-21T23:30:00.000-07:002016-03-22T15:15:57.871-07:003/21/2016 - Post Birthday Check inFriends, Romans, countrymen / women - lend me your ears....<br />
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I thought that was a cheeky opening, right? No updates from me in some time, my apologies. Things have been as busy as you would expect them to be with work / kids / general life.<br />
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On the work front, my company <a href="http://www.primaticsfinancial.com/" target="_blank">Primatics Financial</a> was acquired, the tail end of December, by <a href="http://www.ssctech.com/" target="_blank">SS&C</a>. I've been working long hours on one particular client often taking work home with me and putting in time on the weekends too. The founders of our company are all in the process of exiting and cashing out, and moving on to find something else. There is sure to be some elbowing as the void gets filled and there has been some additional fallout as well. I'm just trying to keep my concentration on my client and trying to prove my worth but stay out of the fray.<br />
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Leila and Eli are now 2.5 years old, and continue to be a handful. They're both talking non-stop, love pushing back and telling us "no daddy" when they disagree with something. Tess has been working on getting them potty trained and I help when I can when I'm home. For the most part, they've been doing exceptionally well with minimal accidents. I think if Eli was on his own, he would likely be slower to adopt however he's pressured into it by Leila. Bribing them with M&M's helps too (1 for a #1 and 2 for a #2). Being our children, they have learned to game the system (a little bit here, a little 10 minutes later) just to optimize delicious chocolate treats. Touche twins... touche. <br />
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Now to the dark horse. Cancer, that lovely little friend I would love to get rid of....<br />
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I didn't mention it in a prior post because I thought it's really no big deal but then I realize that I want this blog to be inclusive of everything and not really try to shelter new (good or bad) so everyone knows what's going on. I had three asymmetric moles cut out 2015Q4 at different times. One day, sitting at work, I got a call from my dermatologist who told me that one of the moles removed was basel cell carcinoma or 'BCC'. (skin cancer). I really don't know what that meant, but I knew it was cancer. At this point on the phone, I just started laughing. "Are you ok Mr White?" asked the dermatologist.<br />
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You just can't make this stuff up. I told her you just have to laugh at it and then politely ended the phone conversation. I sat there, stared at my monitors, and thought how I would break this to Tessa. I figured, I would google it, to find out how serious it is, and then would tell Tessa that night when I got home in person. Google and a couple of phone calls to people in the medical field and I found it is<a href="http://www.skincancer.org/skin-cancer-information/basal-cell-carcinoma" target="_blank"> skin cancer....but it's like a "cancer light"</a>. <br />
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As I said, I just wanted to mention it to get it all out there. I just will have to be careful with sun exposure and really watch them post transplant.<br />
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To be completely honest, we thought that the surgery would have been completed by now. But alas, as in life, there are always roadblocks. At the beginning of the year, we were also given some news about the liver transplant program at Georgetown. Each program in the United States must report certain statistics post transplant to UNOS (<a href="https://www.unos.org/" target="_blank">United Network for Organ Sharing</a>.) Unfortunately, after taking on some "complex cases that had unfavorable outcomes," Georgetown's program had hit their own roadblocks at the 6 month and 12 month post transplant success/mortality rates. Their numbers hit below par. Therefore, they have taken steps to rectify the situation. Pump the brakes a little bit if you will, making sure that they are taking on better cases, ensuring better organ matches. Basically just being really careful. These are all positive changes, but that has also meant that the total number of transplants has decreased, and wait times has been longer. <br />
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So here we are. Thankfully, the chemotherapy that we did last year has done its job. The tumors are roughly the same size, allowing us the luxury of waiting for a perfect match. While waiting for the call is a complete mind game, we are making the most out of time together as a family.<br />
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Today I went in to Georgetown for another round of tests. MRI with and without contrast, CT Scan of the chest, and labwork. I don't know the results yet but it's a pretty frequent routine for me now having to do this same thing every three months to maintain my spot on the transplant list.<br />
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For people who want a little background, humility, and humor this is how it goes:<br />
I try to schedule all tests and labwork for a single day. The alarm goes off when it's still dark outside, 5am something, jump in to the shower and jump out, long sleeve cotton shirt, soccer warmups or hiking pants with no metal, and slide into my orange crocs. I get out the door blowing down RT 66 like Dean Moriarity (Kerouc reference anyone?) to try to beat the HOV restrictions heading into the City.<br />
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Once I get there, I have to pay for parking (the single thing that drives me crazy because I'm already paying through the nose for tests and such). I walk in to the imaging department and have to fill out a form saying I'm not pregnant, I don't have shrapnel in my body, and that I don't have prosthetic limbs or a penile implant. This last point has had Tessa and I snickering every time. I''ll leave it to Google and you in your spare time, but apparently the can put metal rods in there.<br />
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I know who is on the overnight shift and the early morning shift. I know Patrick the happy go lucky Jamaican who frequents listening to NPR and travels to visit family in London. I know Kelly, the lady at the front desk, who is grappling with fertility treatment after treatment, and the debt collectors who are calling her. In general, all of these people are like family in an odd way, you see them all the time. You care about them, and they care about you. It's the golden rule exemplified.<br />
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Anyway, they drop in an IV, immediately test my kidney function (also to be used to administer the Gadolinium test during the scan), I throw all my stuff in a locker, put on a pair of hospital socks that are supposed to fit up to size 12 (and I'm a size 13.5-14), and walk over to the MRI room. I lay down to be pushed through a tube for 45 minutes being told when I can breathe and when I can't. It's pretty relaxing usually because it's so early in the morning and I'm exhausted and haven't eaten anything in since the night before. They do put headphones on you and you get to pick a station to try to drown out the MRI noise. When the MRI gets going, it is a truly weird feeling. Kind of like a warm knife quickly moving through a cross section of your body. Just when it's almost uncomfortable, it stops and then they do it again. Just such an odd feeling.<br />
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So how am I feeling and what's the outlook?<br />
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I don't feel sick and I don't have any symptoms that I can notice. I feel healthier than people my age which is scary. If I hadn't gotten tested I'm sure things would be in a much less optimistic state right now. Thank god for scans / check-ups.<br />
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I'm still playing soccer at least once a week right now which I don't know how I'll do without when I have the transplant. The transplant still looms over me and I have no idea of when things will happen. My current guess is May time frame because that is when my next <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Model_for_End-Stage_Liver_Disease" target="_blank">MELD </a>upgrade is. I'm a 29 now, and it will either push to a 30 or higher. One of my big fears is not so much. Surprisingly, surviving the transplant is not my biggest fear. I've got faith in my body, how it will handle the surgery, and that the doctors at Georgetown are more than capable. My biggest concern/fear is how my quality of life will change. I'll be needing to take immuno-suppressant medication daily for the rest of my life(to ensure that my body does not recognize my "new liver" as a foreign body and try to fight it. That would render it unsuccessful.) I worry about how frail I might be, or if I'll be able to resume normal activities like my outdoor adventures etc. (Maybe less so for myself but I desperately want to be a guide in the wilderness for my kids and really teach them to love and appreciate the outdoors and power of mother nature).<br />
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It's getting late...I hope that my comments / thoughts help to keep you up-to-date and I appreciate you reading / following. It means you care. I've never met anyone with a perfect life yet so it's always good for us to all express our fears / weaknesses / and secrets. I feel like it helps you heal.<br />
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Best to you....<br />
WhiteyMatthew C. Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05404234502141819672noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507930315145414330.post-40735095898440891502015-12-21T12:32:00.000-08:002015-12-21T12:32:56.844-08:0012/16/2015 - Transplant Market UpdateI am always asking where I stand on the transplant list and it's hard for doctors to tell me because it's squishy depending on bloodtype, etc. On Wednesday Dec 16th, Georgetown Hospital did 3 liver transplants. I was able to get some information:<br />
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Adult - Blood Type B<br />
Adult - Blood Type O<br />
Pediatric - Blood Type O<br />
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I also heard through the rumor mill that <a href="http://health.usnews.com/doctors/eddie-island-361411" target="_blank">Eddie Island</a> a transplant surgeon who I met with for my initial transplant meeting, has resigned. I don't know the details or where he will be going but a little saddened to hear. I know <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4EBUSmSh9Ew" target="_blank">Dr Tom Fishbeine</a> is still there and he's my #1 choice but I can't control<br />who I get.<br /><br />The other surgeons are Dr. <a href="http://www.medstarhealth.org/doctor/cal-satoshi-matsumoto-md/#q={}" target="_blank">Matsumoto</a>, Dr. <a href="http://www.medstarhealth.org/doctor/raffaele-girlanda-md/#q={}" target="_blank">Girlanda</a>, Dr. <a href="http://www.medstarhealth.org/doctor/chirag-s-desai-md/#q={}" target="_blank">Desai</a>, Dr. <a href="http://www.medstarhealth.org/doctor/jason-solomon-hawksworth-md/#q={}" target="_blank">Hawksworth</a>, and Dr. Kroemer. I was told that they usually they will come in and speak with me prior to the surgery, so I will have a brief chance to meet the surgeon prior to the operation.Matthew C. Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05404234502141819672noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507930315145414330.post-74084165694735141002015-12-14T10:04:00.000-08:002015-12-14T10:04:17.034-08:00Tis the Season<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">When I was a child, I never quite understood why grown ups didn't get into </span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> holiday cheer. It was </span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> most magical time of </span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> year, </span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> time when I believed that anything could happen if I wished hard enough for it. I truly believed in Santa Claus well past a reasonable age... Because I believed that over Christmas, anything was possible. Why would I ever have given up on that hope? I even got that 10 speed bike with a bow on it one year. </span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">The</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> exact one I dreamed of.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">In 3 years, I have become a wife and a mother of twin toddlers. If you read those ridiculous hashtags of literally millions of blog and Instagram mothers out there, they say #2UnderTheAgeOf2! Meh... eye roll. If you had asked me at </span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> end of last year if I thought that that had made me an "adult," I would have told you no. Big deal, we just dealt with our hectic, but completely awesome life!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">In </span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> last 8 months since Whitey got diagnosed, I have become one of those adults. A little stressed about finding the perfect gifts, decorating, logistics, etc. More shocking is that I even consider myself an ADULT. To anyone who knows me, it is probably hard for you to imagine this, either. True, I am still </span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">the </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">same quick tempered, impatient, sometimes foul mouthed girl (sorry mom and dad!) who thinks flatulence jokes are the BEST (because they <u>are)</u>, and can win almost all beer chugging contests. That is still me, take it or leave it. I thank god everyday that Whitey took it, as we are polar opposites in those ways. Hey, opposites attract, right?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">But ever since </span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> end of April, </span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> proverbial shit has hit </span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> fan. Adulthood has come flying at me like Miley Cyrus' wrecking ball. To be clear, I think Miley is absolutely revolting, and I would do almost anything to run away from it (and her!)</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">In 2015, Whitey and I officially became grown ups. We have gotten dealt some of </span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> crappiest hands... Cue drum roll with </span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">the </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">pitiful violin playing in the background:</span><br />
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<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Second Cancer diagnosis.</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Getting told that my husband needs a liver transplant.</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Chemotherapy.</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Feces throwing, mentally ill, HIV infected roommate for Whitey after Tace surgery.</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Countless visits to doctors.</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">ER visits for both Whitey and Leila.</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Whitey having surgery on his mouth and surgery to extract moles that are inconclusive whether or not they could be cancerous now or in </span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> future.</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Leila Bean admitted into </span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> hospital for a week for a staph infection that infiltrated her bone. By far one of </span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> worst experiences, having this tiny little girl not able to walk because she is in so much pain, crying (literally) 24/7, can't tell us what is wrong... And having to hold her down with 4 other grown ups, to keep her body still for an IV which they'd ultimately miss to get to h</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">er tiny veins... All while she screams "mommy! I'm sorry. Please no hurt Yay-uh (Leila). I'm sorry...please.." Multiple times a day. Looking at me like I am punishing her for being so sick. It still makes me cry thinking about it.</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Top it all off with major (negative) insurance changes, toddlers who have an affinity for getting buck naked with zero regard to </span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> state of their full diapers, and </span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> stomach flu over Thanksgiving? </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">To be completely honest? I am tired. Exhausted mentally. Is it okay to not be into </span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> most wonderful time of </span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> year?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">You see, this time of </span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> year, Whitey will definitely move up </span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> donor list. Why? To be blunt, there are more car/motorcycle accidents during </span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> holidays, and therefore more organs become available. Actually, with every holiday, we knowingly look at each other and think, "this could be it!!" I feel like a horrible person hoping that one family's final misfortune could be our ultimate gift. It is like the saddest Gift of the Magi story ever. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">A thanksgiving turkey is awesome... Especially when it is fried to perfection... But a thanksgiving liver would be even better. I know, I know. It is morbid, sue me! But it is our reality.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">It seems like everything in our life hinges upon </span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> transplant. We have sadly missed and will miss weddings and celebrations of people we hold dear to our hearts. Our friends and family pause to give us their awesome news, in fear that they don't want to rub it in our faces (which by the way, please please please tell us! We are social people, and LOVE to hear great news. Your happiness fuels us!!) We cannot travel more than an hour away, and we jump when </span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> phone rings and it is a number we do not recognize. Just in case. And when we do get "</span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> call"... It could very likely be a false alarm. Yes, I have heard these false alarms can happen for a number of reasons: someone else needs it more, it isn't a good quality liver, it isn't a good size, not a great match... You name it. We are ready to be called multiple times just to be let down. It is just </span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> reality of this waiting process.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">As I read back on what I just wrote, I realize more and more that yes. Adulthood is here. Whitey and I are definitely grown ups, with grown up issues to deal with.... And sometimes I wish I could just tell Santa that all I want for Christmas is for my husband to be healthy. Because he deserves it. But other times, I just wish that Santa could take away some of these "adult" issues, and just allow me to be a wife and mother again. Because I felt like I was good at being those things, and this new adulthood is a completely new ball game. One that I feel sometimes that I am the worst player on the field: dropping the ball, and completely missing the goal all together. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">But before you go and think that I am too filled with bahumbag to want to welcome</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Christmas into our hearts this year... I still have hope. It comes everyday in little ways: a Christmas card from our family and friends, the look on the faces of Eli and Leila when they saw the Christmas Tree for the first time. I mean seriously. Look at those faces. How can I not LOVE the holidays? You would think that they saw Rockefeller Center's Tree for the first time, instead of the twinkly lights only, tree in our kitchen (Yes. The kitchen...which is usually off limits to them via baby gates. To minimize breakage of the ornaments!)</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0jILtt5sscWMNhpeBYtvC5PudBWKmp5jVc1iSpYBlDFE4nBf_nffXnndQI-cNQgqi8E-lhtE6q0vcfBzH6J7RslSklLN-SIR06-jR2z6Jyt1F8FXaAndxM8vErXk_YAufTszY6glrLWyO/s1600/cropped+leila.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0jILtt5sscWMNhpeBYtvC5PudBWKmp5jVc1iSpYBlDFE4nBf_nffXnndQI-cNQgqi8E-lhtE6q0vcfBzH6J7RslSklLN-SIR06-jR2z6Jyt1F8FXaAndxM8vErXk_YAufTszY6glrLWyO/s320/cropped+leila.jpg" width="229" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>"Oh my goodness, daddy! So Pretty! I like it!" - Leila</b></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>"It's SANTA! I KNOW HIM!!!"- Eli</b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">When close my eyes, I remember that </span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> holidays are supposed to be about love, hope, and family. It is undeniable, that when Whitey, Leila, Eli, and I are huddled in our family hug and kisses every night before bed... We have all 3 of those in abundance. I can actually feel it from my heart to my toes.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">I am most thankful </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">for these 3 people, and from them I have more than I can ever wish or ask for from Little Baby Jesus and Santa combined... Including </span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> reindeer. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">But just in case any of them are listening... A liver for Whitey would be awesome, too.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">We love you all. We hope you had a happy thanksgiving, and will have an incredible Christmas and New Year. For all of you who still believe in </span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> power of Christmas and Santa and all that... Put in a good one for </span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> Whites... Because through all of it, if I search deep enough down in </span><span class="il" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> pit of my heart, I still believe in Christmas miracles.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Xoxo,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Tessa</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Besties in Christmas jammies! But don't let them fool you. 2 Seconds later, they were pushing each other off the chair. </span> </b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Tessa loves Whitey - Photo credit <a href="http://www.jenniferwinder.com/">http://www.jenniferwinder.com/</a></b></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilYvWUWByP-ncaO8WC2jikwNHa7ab4Tj1NMzZ_wce6IP6fevgQ_207ZKBcBA3VsNts51lU6UUZaX4U0eRi3iI3ayXAA1fRhpnTBbcqE-DoBXchyphenhyphenRPxlTpN5mUV1dSqksvxvYeywp9ySQ-A/s1600/IMG_2854.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilYvWUWByP-ncaO8WC2jikwNHa7ab4Tj1NMzZ_wce6IP6fevgQ_207ZKBcBA3VsNts51lU6UUZaX4U0eRi3iI3ayXAA1fRhpnTBbcqE-DoBXchyphenhyphenRPxlTpN5mUV1dSqksvxvYeywp9ySQ-A/s640/IMG_2854.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>The naughtiest, cutest boy ever. Photo credit: <a href="http://www.jenniferwinder.com/">http://www.jenniferwinder.com/</a></b></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMPNajZ5GmfrYRMS9ylytiAvOC1Iy-ZGdqQ7Jl5w8KAyhffCf9pNYHQ2THhlkgzLEv1U_4noBTbcfIA50fPkLQ90lTxiwK4liQg-PhxyC_l3CSuDTLbpn2xTjm3ku4gaZUIG1dcpExD6jS/s1600/IMG_2867-L.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMPNajZ5GmfrYRMS9ylytiAvOC1Iy-ZGdqQ7Jl5w8KAyhffCf9pNYHQ2THhlkgzLEv1U_4noBTbcfIA50fPkLQ90lTxiwK4liQg-PhxyC_l3CSuDTLbpn2xTjm3ku4gaZUIG1dcpExD6jS/s640/IMG_2867-L.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Swoon. Please stay this age forever, my sassy little lady. Photo credit: <a href="http://www.jenniferwinder.com/">http://www.jenniferwinder.com/</a></b></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDj21pnqqUYp8K4nzpTtQfneDMMSxwzOBGpW-KK63waLIoTF_lKgBhUEzlMIkT77OSQjUhTCQyFagkKWa8UWSoUz2qg1t9JZnyQuKKJ8yhNNup6Sql0vGwClqlhkhXrbY_HWv-w8TpgGDq/s1600/image1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDj21pnqqUYp8K4nzpTtQfneDMMSxwzOBGpW-KK63waLIoTF_lKgBhUEzlMIkT77OSQjUhTCQyFagkKWa8UWSoUz2qg1t9JZnyQuKKJ8yhNNup6Sql0vGwClqlhkhXrbY_HWv-w8TpgGDq/s400/image1.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Whitey's holiday party this past weekend</b></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCfGkbtQimgMjbrkAeDgH3If6DONKz7V04q3np4dQxY2iPrsyGFhM-YyDoRZl2xmjgsoZAR9N074vGv6CBHSJHiVrQAElEmX82ANYT9Ev9-r_Ifl8Ew7N288nP1AxIDWr4jd0PuZN4fUZ3/s1600/FullSizeRender+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCfGkbtQimgMjbrkAeDgH3If6DONKz7V04q3np4dQxY2iPrsyGFhM-YyDoRZl2xmjgsoZAR9N074vGv6CBHSJHiVrQAElEmX82ANYT9Ev9-r_Ifl8Ew7N288nP1AxIDWr4jd0PuZN4fUZ3/s640/FullSizeRender+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Finding our tree at the Merrifield Garden Center. </b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></span>Tessa Lopezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05866067320996576356noreply@blogger.com5