It's a Family Affair

We got the call on Monday the 22nd November at 11pm. We were just getting ready to go to bed.
- We've got you a liver. Make your way here as soon as you can.
It was time to activate the much-discussed plan. Mum and Dad came to collect Nic, we left and collected Joanne, my step-daughter.
The 70 mile journey to the Queen Elizabeth Hospital, Birmingham, felt like a 10 minute ride. We arrived at 1.30am. And waited, nervous, kept in good spirits by Dave who was the only calm one.
They came for him at 5.30am. Only then did I see a flash of fear.....
Me and Joanne cried and cried and wandered around an empty, not yet awake hospital looking for somewhere comfy to sit. We talked and cried. Lots.
At 9am one of the transplant co-ordinators called.
- The new liver's in. They just have to sew him back up.
At 11am, 5 hours after starting, the transplant operation was complete.

And that was the easy bit.

Before the op we had attended all the compulsory workshops and education sessions so we knew exactly what would happen but none of it really sinks in until it's actually happening.
The trauma of the first 48 critical hours was, well, traumatic. And noisy. Bloody hell if you thought Intensive Care was quiet and calm think again! But we got through it with the help of the NHS angels and my God, they are angels. His life was, quite literally, in their very capable hands.
The surgeon, Thamara Perera, a man I will never forget or be able to thank enough, came to see him - us - every day and assured us that things were going well. Even the expected, acute kidney failure.
After 2 days he was transferred to a ward. After 4 days he was able to shuffle to the bathroom. After 6 days he was fit enough to come home but had to stay because of the kidneys and dialysis. After 12 days he did come home.

And that's when our new life began.

I'm not ashamed to admit that we both cried buckets. We were told that we would and we were told to just let it all go. It was for a combination of things.
Tiredness, we were both totally drained for different reasons. Dave for obvious reasons, me for travelling there and back every day and not eating much besides Maltesers.
Fear, without the safety and security of the hospital and having someone else dish out the drugs. Oh my God the drugs. There are so many. And some of them are taken to counteract the side effects of others. And we can't afford to get the dosage wrong, these are the difference between life and death - a massive, scary responsibility.
Also, and again I'm not ashamed to admit this either, there have been a few 'why us' tears. We are feeble human beings after all...

And not forgetting the donor. We learned as much as we're allowed about the donor and that detail will always remain a family affair. But we cried for that person. We thought about their funeral and their family. The surgeon said a lovely thing though, that Dave had done as much for the donor and their wishes as they had done for him. The liver had to go to an otherwise fit and healthy person or be wasted. Dave was the fittest and healthiest at that time. Without him as a recipient the organ wouldn't have been able to be used.

So two families who will never know each other, have been linked together forever.....in quiet moments those thoughts are overwhelming.

What was also overwhelming was the love and support from family and friends. Mum and Dad became surrogate parents to Nic and kept her routine as normal as possible. Dave's family, especially Joanne, were there for me throughout.

And you lot, my twitter family. The love and good wishes we received from you was incredible, so many hugs and kisses and offers of sharing a cuppa at the hospital, just to keep me company. And so many from people I've never even met. I thank each and every one of you from the bottom of my heart.

I won't pretend that adjusting to our new normal is easy. It really isn't. But we'll only come out the other side stronger for it.

And cured. How bloody fantastic is that?