First Year with a new heart.

September 11, 2010
Today marks the first year anniversary of my transplanted heart. Transplant recipients will tell you this day becomes a second birthday for them. A year ago, I was in very frail condition, being kept alive with the aide of several machines and a host of medications. I was admitted into the hospital in mid July 2009 and made a 1-A patient for heart transplant, placing me in the front of the line for the next available heart. I received the notice that a heart was available on September 10 and the operation occurred the following morning. I remember being wheeled into surgery early on September 11. The surgical room was full of people and machinery. I was not afraid of the procedure (which today seems strange). I was completely comfortable with what the doctors were about to do. I was fascinated with the energy in the room among the doctors and the nurses. I would have liked to have been able to watch more of the preparation. I remember someone shouting out, “The heart will be here in 90 minutes.” At that point, the anesthesiologist asked me about my work. As I told him about my job, I became more and more tired and closed my eyes. That was it. I can not tell you any more about that day. I woke up in the Intensive Care Unit the following day about mid-day. Rose told me that at the end of the heart surgery, the surgeon came to the family and described how things went. An anticipated four hour or better procedure took three hours to complete. He was very up-beat about the morning.
Criteria for a suitable heart include blood type, size, a variety of biological criteria on heart function and overall condition. Many donors at death, because of the nature or trauma of how they died, do not have a heart or other organs that can be successfully transplanted to another person. The gift on a healthy heart, kidney or lung becomes a commodity that will allow the recipient a longer life. For the past year, I have enjoyed some time with my grandchildren, time with my own five children and time with my siblings, friends and spouse. During recovery, I have been able to work on some projects I have wanted to do for some time. I have worked on my family history and uncovered information that has been hidden for years on the family. I have also sorted through some old family photos and digitized them for grandkids and nieces and nephews to have.

From what I understand today, I am the first and still only individual that has walked out of the University of Washington Medical Center with this disease. The past 12 months have been challenging as I work through the issues of a second transplant (bone marrow in February 2010) and various medications including chemotherapy to eradicate the source of my sickness.
I love a good book or film about explorers. The hardships and conditions many of them faced is staggering. There is one particular film series done by the BBC ,“The Last Place on Earth” that tells about the race to the south pole by English explorer Scott and Norwegian Roland Amundson that I have watched a dozen or so times. After reaching the pole first, the team with Amundson said it is as important to record this historical event with words. Amundson told his colleagues, “What I have to say is not profound or deep; just how good it is to be alive." The last year has been a long and slow process of recovery. I am still not done with all the things the doctors want to do with me. Yet while still in the middle of working through issues, I can honestly say, “how good it is to be alive.” To those who have followed this blog for the last year, sent cards, emails or comments to the blog and keep Rose and I in your prayers, thank you.

P.S. Now you might wonder what the first words were out of my mouth on the day after my transplant. Well like Amundson, I had not prepared anything profound or deep. I asked my sister, “Who won the game?” That day the Husky’s Football Team won their first game in the previous 15 games against Idaho; 42 to 23. (Note, the photo above is my first walk two days after my transplant).