“Carve your name on hearts, not tombstones. A legacy is etched into the minds of others and the stories they share about you.” ― Shannon L. Alder
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Well, it's been a week.
Last night I was remembering with longing those heady days before the baby came, when I had scads of time to do whatever, whenever I wanted. Then I remember that I was the one who wanted a baby so bad. Then I also remember that when I had all that free time, I didn't really DO anything-I didn't write the Great American Novel or go back to school or even clean out the basement, so stop whining already.
Needless to say, I'm not getting on the internets so much, and when I do, mostly I just surf the news sites. Then I have to take an aspirin and lie down. You really shouldn't read the news-it's not worth it.
Work's been, well, it's a living. I'm vaguely happy that I get to totter around in my heels and long, white lab coat. I have a signed prescription pad in my pocket that I get to whip out when someone needs a test or a medication. Then I wonder when did I ever become so shallow that a lab coat and a little authority can make my day? That worked well 'til Friday, when we all got a nasty-gram from the boss for things that weren't our fault, that made me want to march in there and toss down my resignation and THEN I got a stern talking to from the chief surgeon about things that were my fault and it took all the wind out of my sails, which is probably just as well. Until I renew my BLS/ACLS and get a new car, there's no point in job shopping.
Aside from the soap opera, it's a pretty swell gig. I have a bunch of patients who I really like that have just reached their 90 day appointment and so I won't be seeing them until December. During the first 90 days after transplant the patients come in 2x a week for the first month, then 1x a week, then every other week, plus many, many phone calls, so you get pretty attached to some people. Then, like little, baby birds, they fly off back to their regular, hopefully improved, lives.
I feel like I've been seeing all these weird articles about transplantation, but I haven't had the wherewithal to come on and share them. First up, if you haven't already read about, is a story from April of this year. Appears a guy committed suicide, his wife donated his organs and then, years later, meets the heart recipient, ends up marrying him and then HE commits suicide. There's been bunches of stories circulating about cellular memory, as if the second guy somehow "caught" the suicide bug from him. If you read the story from the South Carolina paper, I think you'll agree that it was in fact 2 guys who had the bad luck to hook up with this woman. Anyway, if you want a bit of "As the World Turns" meets "King of the Hill" with a little bit of "Heartland" (remember that show?) thrown in, then read this.
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4 comments:
Doesn't that overlook the woman's culpability in the whole mess? How many of her other friends and acquaintances have killed themselves?
I'm saying! That woman is a bad time! If you advertised for a blind date on Craig's list and she replied, you should run, not walk, in the other direction. I think, somewhere in the article, that the police are interviewing her exes in the case of her last husband's suicide, in case it wasn't a suicide. Hmmmm.
Oh, BTW for those of you who followed this case. I think this is a real fluke. I don't think that most donor family/recipient meetings turn out like this, but it IS a big, bad world out there, so look sharp, stick together and use a little CS-common sense.
I just finished reading your whole blog. My dad received a kidney transplant last year after spending almost 11 years on dialysis. He has Polycystic Kidney Disease and was told for many years that he was too sick for a transplant. Then one day he got the call, he was healthy enough(barely) and the kidney was a zero mismatch. He's a new man. The spark is back, he's happy and enjoying life. Thank you for everything that you do. Thank you so much.
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