When the Surgeon Comes Calling, You Answer the Damn Phone

Today, the head of surgery for liver transplants called me on my cell. When does that ever happen? Nutshell version: according to him, everything we have been told in the last 24 hours is incorrect. At this point, Joey IS still eligible for a living liver transplant. HOWEVER, this could change should he become more ill. Needless to say, we are stepping up the OCD in the bubble. Good thing my sissy knows how to shop for concoctions to improve the state of my hands. They were beginning to look a tad snake-like from overwashing.

Now for some more shitty news: apparently, the images from both Ryan and Jackson’s MRIs are not high enough quality for the surgeon to see what he is looking for, so these tests will likely have to be repeated. Argh! He assured us that he is going to exert as much pressure as he can to have this done quickly so that we can get on with things before it’s too late. Which could basically be at any time, since things are changing at the drop of a hat these days.

This conversation also gave me the opportunity to ask about operating room time. While he was down in Vancouver doing his tests, Jackson asked one of the liver transplant folks if they could give him an idea of when the earliest living liver transplant would take place, if he turned out to be a match. The person he spoke with said that the earliest it would happen would be in May. When I questioned the surgeon about that today, however, I got a different answer. He said that getting the OR time would not be a problem.

I was also able to confirm what the situation would have to be for a Canada-wide call to be put out for a cadaveric liver (Right now, Joey is at the top of the BC list, one of the provinces with the lowest rate of registered organ donors. Check your status now: www.transplant.bc.ca ). In order for a Canada-wide call to be put out, Joey would need to be intubated and in the ICU. This means that he would have a machine breathing for him again. Now for another crappy twist: because he is a lung transplant patient, the doc we spoke to today said that this would be extremely risky and that if this were to happen, Joey would not stand a good chance of surviving.

So essentially, we are still scared shitless, but now we are scared shitless with a glimmer of hope. This has been a rough day for all involved, but especially for the J-man. Although he looks a hell of a lot better to me today than he did two days ago, he is tired, frightened, and struggling to process things. Again, all of us are, but at this point, he needs a little extra TLC.

Come on people. Prove your love! Thank you, thank you, thank you for all of your support.