The Odyssey continues…

On the morning of Jan. 5, 1998, my wife and I report to New York Hospital. Everything was cool, right? Pre-ops done, they were all set for us, right?

Wrong!

At the last minute, there seemed to be a glitch in my insurance coverage. The women at the hospital in charge of that were on the phone, working furiously on my behalf. There was even one of the administrative doctors who was with us who seemed more frustrated than we were!

(Actually, I have to say it was kind of devilishly satisfying to see a doctor who had to wait along with us!)

After about 45 minutes, everything was straightened out, and we were admitted.

Yaay!

As it happened, a friend of my wife’s sister happened to work in the Transplant department. She, of course, knew the doctors involved in our two surgeries. And let me tell you, her kindness and light-heartedness eased the stress for both of us.

And so my wife and I went our separate ways. The next day was surgery day for both of us.

The next morning, I was prepped, and got medication to “get mellow.”

Just before anesthesia, I saw my wife, and, thanks to my wife’s sister’s friend, we were both in great spirits, with light-hearted banter passed among the staff.

So, in a room filled with amazing equipment and a lot of nurses and technicians, I went to…???

The next thing I knew, I had an oxygen mask on my face, and voice from the distance said, “The transplant is great! You’re making urine all over the place!”

Wow!. In my semi-conscious state, I felt a sense of gratitude that not too many people get to experience!

Because of the previous experience with asthma, they brought in a portable X-ray machine for a quick chest X-ray. Later, I heard that everything was fine.

My wife said she saw me in those moments, but I didn’t see her.

I don’t have much recollection of those hours.

I do remember my room, and the usual IV attachments…which beeped annoyingly!

I got used to it.

And monitoring and recovery began.

I knew I was on a high dose of prednisone, and I had morphine.

Of course I couldn’t eat or drink until my digestive system “woke up.” That would take a while.

Using wet “sponge sticks” to moisten my mouth, I lay there. I was pretty stoned for the first 36 hours.

I won’t get too graphic, but they measured everything that went into me and that came out of me for the nine days I was in the hospital.

But the kidney was working, I was learning what meds I was getting and what they were for. The nurses pounded that info into me every time I took the meds. They wanted to make darned sure that I knew what I was doing. I learned quickly.

So far, so good!

BTW, if you have any questions about anything concerning these “struggles,” please let me know. The point of me writing this is to remove some of the “mystery” of the “PKD Odyssey.”

Please leave your comment below, or e-mail me directly at:

info@innergameofpkd.com .

My next and last installment might be humorous to some! An unintended result!

Carry On!

Peace and Blessings!

Coach Richie Perl

Certified Professional Coach

Certified Trainer of Neuro-Linguistic Programming