Seattle Kidney Trip – Day 4

Zero hour, 7 A.M.

This is earlier than anyone should be awake. Especially after only about four-and-a-half hours of restless sleep. We left a little late and traffic was unusually heavy, but we checked in only a few minutes after our scheduled time. The woman at surgery reception is annoyingly chipper and full of weird, small-talky questions (very interested in New York City weather). She notices the contrast in moods between Heather and me and rightly guesses “He’s not the morning person, is he?” No. Especially not on mornings when my fianceé is about to lose vital organs. A surgery nurse at the far end of the reception desk looks astonishingly like my dad. He gives me a long look which I assume is because I look astonishingly like his son.

Before we know it, Heather is on a gurney in her paper gown, the center of attention for five nurses who duck and weave around me as they cover her with inflatable warming blankets and press IVs inter her hand and ask her over and over “What is your name? And what are you here for today?” A resident writes her initials in purple ink on Heather’s abdomen—proof that she answered the questions correctly—and Heather makes me take a picture of it. I take more of her legs in the compression socks that are designed to prevent aneurisms, her IV-clad left hand, and of her laid out, throwing two enthusiastic thumbs up. The monitor to which she’s attached shows a resting heart rate of 88—30 beats faster than normal and the only sign of anxiety betraying her calm and happy demeanor.

“Hewwo Pwecious!” booms from behind the curtain as Papa and Dede enter to say hello and wish her luck. Hugs are exchanged. Tears are held back. Moments later, they are gone and I am left holding our bags as Heather is wheeled away into the O.R. So begins the longest day in our relationship so far.

10:15 A.M. PST – I am in the waiting room with a bunch of very sleepy people, most of whom are attempting to distract themselves with months-old magazines. One sleeping girl’s cell phone keeps vibrating loudly, failing to wake her. A thin elderly man paces nervously. Still no sign of Papa, and I assume it’s because Dede has not yet gone into surgery—Heather goes first—but it’s possible he’s wandering the halls in search of this room. This place is a maze. They just called to let me know that “they just started and Heather is resting comfortably and doing fine.” They’ll call again in about an hour. I’ll keep live updating as things progress.

11:41 A.M. PST – Papa finally made it to the waiting room. He was with Dede, waiting for her to get the green light. Things were proceeding slowly with Heather, pushing Dede’s start time back. Thankfully, they are going slowly because they are working laparoscopically. Currently, things are proceeding without incident and Heather is doing well. They will call again around 1:30, at which time they will probably be very close to closing her up. All good news so far.

12:19 P.M. PST – Papa just received word that they have made the first incision on Dede and all is well so far. Her estimated time in surgery is about three hours, and they’ll call again in about an hour.

12:41 P.M. PST – They are closing Heather up and her right kidney is on its way to Dede. She should be completely done within the hour.

2:10 P.M. PST – Heather is out of the O.R. and in recovery. Her surgeon, Dr. Baktha, reports that everything is fine and she is doing well. This was Heather’s first time under general anesthesia, and her reported reaction to it is funny and somehow not surprising. While she was waking up, she apparently got “a bit wild” and had to be restrained before they could move her. Now I’m strangely curious about what she would be like under the influence of other substances. We’ll be able to see her when she moves into her own room in … yep, about an hour.

3:03 P.M. PST – They are closing Dede up and she will be in recovery in about 30 minutes. The surgery was “a complete success.”

3:24 P.M. PST – Official report from Dede’s surgeon: Everything looks great. Heather’s kidney started working immediately, filtering blood and producing urine (which, frankly, blows my mind). Papa, Ken, Dede’s sister and I are the last few people in the waiting room. Papa is quietly overjoyed, smiling and holding back tears. “I never thought I would be so happy about urine in my life!” he says. When Heather hears the news, I’m sure it will be more of the same from her.

That’s all the news there is to tell for now. While I’m sure I will post more when I’m back at the Thompsons’, I’m signing off for the afternoon. It has been a long day. I’m very sleepy and a little numb from sitting in one place for seven hours. Soon, I will go up to see my heroic future wife and kiss her as much as the attending nurses will allow.

Thanks to the good doctors and nurses at the University of Washington Medical Center for a day of boredom and good news.