Transplant: Day 8

The last week has been a bit of a blur as Maggie continues to recover from her transplant surgery. It's hard to keep track of exactly what has happened and when. We have been taking it in turns to spend days and nights with Maggie in her hospital room, trying to get rest and sleep where we can. Ed and Stevie, Maggie's father and brother, have both returned to Chicago. Kerry, Maggie's mother, and I have been alternating nights in and out of the hospital. It's tiring work, but rewarding to watch as Maggie becomes more and more like the Maggie we know and love.

It's hard to describe just how busy and action-packed the days have been here at the hospital, although it seems like things might finally be calming down. Sleep has been a rare commodity until recently, even at night there is a constant stream of things to do, with nurses coming in and out. As I write this by Maggie's bedside, she is taking a nap, and it's amazing to watch her sleep compared to before. Her mouth is wide open as if she is catching flies, and she is taking slow, deep breaths rather than the shallow and rapid breathing of before. Her breathing is also silent. For years, every breath she took came with crackles and wheezes, similar to the sound of rice krispies covered in milk. But now it is totally silent. She was curious to listen to her new lungs, so the other day the nurse gave her a stethoscope. She asked inquisitively, "What is that whooshing sound?" The nurse replied, "Maggie, that is the sound of air rushing into your lungs, that's what normal lungs should sound like!" There were no crackles, no wheezes or other strange noises. Even at birth, her lungs were not completely clear, so this was truly a new experience for her, and quite an emotional one at that.

Transplant: Day 3

It's Saturday afternoon here at Stanford and I thought another update was in order. It's hard to keep track of everything that has happened in the last few days, it has been so action-packed. Maggie only came out of surgery on Wednesday afternoon and yet today, just 3 days later, she took her first walk outside her hospital room. In true Maggie form, she called the shots and told her nurses that even though she was tired and exhausted she wanted to get up and walk. It's the best thing she can do for herself at this stage, to get out of bed and move as much as possible. Recovery, it seems, is not about resting and more about working! She is physically exhausted, if only because it is impossible to get any sleep around here. There is a constant stream of people coming into her room day and night to administer medications, perform chest x-rays, educate us on how to care for her after transplant, and a whole host of other things. It is a lot to take in, but an amazing experience to witness her progress.

As Maggie was walking back into her room today, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and burst into tears. These were tears of pure joy, as she realized that she had just managed to walk without feeling out of breath, for the first time in years. She can't can't come to terms with having somebody else's lungs inside her, her mind has not had a chance to catch up with her body over the last few days. She is so, so thankful for this amazing gift from her donor.

Transplant!

On Tuesday, at around 11 pm, Maggie received her third and final call for lungs. I had just gone to bed and Maggie was downstairs finishing up her treatment. She came marching upstairs, yelling at me to get up. After a brief discussion and a moment of shock, she took a quick shower, we packed some bags and then drove to Stanford Hospital. The roads were empty that time of night and we arrived in what seemed like a very short amount of time. There was hardly any time to discuss what was happening, let alone how we were feeling, and before we knew it we were at the hospital.

She was admitted to a regular hospital room, where an assortment of tests were done. We were told to expect surgery around 7 am the next morning, so we had a long wait ahead of us. However, time passed extremely quickly, and our friend Anna Modlin was kind enough to sit with us. She has had a lung transplant of her own and so was a great source of advice and comfort as we prepared for what lay ahead of us. We didn't know whether the surgery would go ahead at this point, the donor team had to travel to the donor's location, check if the organs were suitable and then harvest them. We were keeping our expectations in check in case it turned out to be a "dry run". Around 4 am, orders were received to take Maggie up to the operating room and prepare her for surgery. There was suddenly a sense of urgency and we were hurried out of the room. I said goodbye to Maggie and she was taken off into the operating room. For the next hour or so, she was given light sedation and we waited to receive news from the donor team as to whether the surgery would go ahead. They don't put someone fully to sleep until they are absolutely sure the surgery will go ahead. Finally, around 6 am, the hospital heard from the donor team and they started to put Maggie to sleep and prepare her body for surgery. This was going to happen!