Post-Op Day 1

Hospitals are not great for sleeping, at all. Every 4hrs there was a nurse to take my vitals, and if that so happened to be during a few precious moments of sleep - oh well.

So Day1 started with a surgeon waking me up around 7am. He was a part of the team, but not my actual surgeon and thus I had never met him before. It amused me as people don't seem to understand why I did what I did. I have no connection with kidney disease, no connection with organ donation/transplant, I just decided to do it. He seemed baffled. He did take a quick look at the port sites and the incision (my 4 dots and a dash) and said that I was doing great and away he went.

I'm not overly sure what time things were going on during the morning, I was still pretty close with my morphine drip and that added a bit of a haze to everything. Breakfast for me was tea, orange juice, apple juice. Or that was what was served. I was only able to have the OJ, wasn't feeling very hungry.
One of the nurses washed me, which was an experience in itself. I am not a big fan of not being able to take care of myself, and not being able to wash myself was not fun. Plus, I am not a big fan of other people touching me, especially in all those places - even if its just to make sure I am clean. So I got a wash and was able to brush my teeth, which was super awesome. And I was able to put on PJ pants, which I cannot tell you how happy they made me. Finally my bum wasn't hanging out every time I rolled over! And I added some super soft socks as my feet have a tendency to be cold. I still had the compression stockings on as I was very sedentary and they help prevent clots, but they also helped keep me nice and warm. I couldn't put on a PJ top as I had my IV in and it didn't work with the sleeves. Which kinda sucked, but at least I was able to have pants despite the fact I still had my catheter in.

My husband arrived around 10am, visiting hours were from 12noon to 8pm, but the nurses did say he could come early if he wanted, but not before 10 as they had stuff to do. Which was true, I had 'eaten' breakfast and washed up after already meeting with a surgeon before he arrived. But it was so nice to see him. He always makes me smile.

In the early afternoon or late morning (again, not totally sure) one of the transplant coordinators came to see me. She brought flowers and a card from the recipient and their family. Apparently the recipient was doing great, creatine levels were down from the 600s to the 100s, which is huge, and it was like night and day for them. She said that quite often recipients have almost a grey pallor before surgery, and after they really get their colour back, which was a good sign, and this recipient was no exception.

To protect both myself and the recipient's anonymity, I won't share the contents of the card the wrote me, but I can tell you it made me cry. The recipient was a mother, father, son or daughter. They had a family. This person was now able to do things that mere days before they were unable to do. They had a future to spend with their loved ones that didn't involve 20hrs of dialysis a week. They thanked me for what I had done, for what it meant for their family and wished me a speedy recovery. Rereading the card now, it still has the power to bring tears to my eyes and lessen my pain. It was all worth it, plain and simple.

The rest of this first day was pretty uneventful, the only other thing to note was the physiotherapist came and had me stand up and take a few steps in place. I wasn't yet recovered enough to be walking, but standing was do-able. My meals were still clear fluids, so nothing really of note, and I didn't really 'eat' much as I had (and still have) very little appetite.

I kept the flowers my my bedside, the card in the drawer of my hospital table, and my Bunny Earl by my side at all times.

If this bunny had a green ribbon, it would be identical to Earl

A while back while waiting for an appointment I was texting my best friend and we decided to name my kidneys Earl and Pearl. Pearl being on the right, Earl on the left.  When my husband came to see me when I was first out of surgery, he came bearing a white bunny stuffed animal, and when we were thinking of names for him, my husband suggested Earl. Thus the recipient got Earl the kidney, and I have Earl the bunny.

This night, however, was not as uneventful. One of the side effects of morphine is nausea. Sometime during the middle of the night the nausea hit me like a freight train. It woke me from my sleep, I started pressing my call button for a nurse, and before they could even get there I was throwing up. It sucked. They wiped me up, gave me some gravol and a small dish for if it happened again. It did. Twice more. Each time worse than the last both in quantity of 'output' and in the retching which incidentally engages you abs which hurt my incisions. It was not a pleasant night. But, thankfully, it was the worst of my nights and really the only unpleasant part of my stay.