They called me at around 6:30 in the morning. The first time my phone rang I was sound asleep and thought it was my alarm going off so I pushed the "snooze" button (which just declined the call). They called back about 10 minutes later though and I was still asleep, but alert enough this time to realize that it was the phone, not the alarm.
The nurse told me when I spoke to her to eat breakfast and take my morning medications, but then don't eat or drink anything after that and wait for their call. I decided to go into work so I could wrap up some things and get ready to be out of the office for a few months since, like I said before, I was sure that this was the one.
They finally called me back around 2:00 or 2:30 and told me to come into the hospital. So after going home to pack a quick overnight bag, I went in. Everything happened so fast once I got there. The blood draw, the chest x-ray, the EKG, getting the stupid IV put in (which was hard since they couldn't get my veins to cooperate...man my arms are bruised up now!), it was all done within the first hour of getting there instead of over the span of several hours which has been the case in the past. I brought up the bowel prep and how it gave me peritonitis last time so the nurse discussed it with the doctor, and they decided they would just skip that prep all together so as to not risk another infection. They said if they needed to they would just do a little...um...cleaning out, while they were in surgery. It's kind of funny, I totally pictured myself laying on an operating table all cut open and the doctor calling somebody in who was sporting a garden hose with a nozzle on the end of it to spray me down cause they needed to do a little...cleaning out. I'm sure that's probably how it works. ha ha!
So, all the testing and check in stuff was done which means Mom and I had nothing to do but wait (Devon went into work that day too to get done all he could during the waiting portion of all this and therefore be there during the surgery part). So we waited. And waited. And waited. Until about 9:00 PM. At that time, Devon was down in the parking lot, finishing eating his dinner before he came up (remember, I'd been fasting all day. I didn't want to smell or see food, I was HUNGRY!) which is when the doctor (or was it the nurse...I can't remember now) came in and told us the valves (I think...) on the pancreas were too small. I wasn't going to get a transplant today.
As I said before, I felt so certain that this time was going to be it, so it really hit me hard. I think this is the first time this has happened (the call in, just to be eventually sent home) when I felt the disappointment on a level you would assume...I don't know if that makes sense. I'll try to explain: every time I've gone in, I've done so with the thought in my head that "the transplant team warned me before this all started that I'll get called and have to go home a couple times before the transplant actually happens" and "the pancreas is a finicky organ and I want the best one possible so if the doctor says it's not this one, that's OK" so as to not get my hopes up too high and therefore not be too disappointed. So every time I've gone in, people kind of tip-toe so to speak around me, afterward, assuming I'll be super bummed that it didn't happen. I am super bummed, of course, but my expectations were low, so the letdown wasn't too bad. This time I let my expectations soar, so the letdown was finally on the level that those tip-toeing people have assumed all the time.
It'll happen....
Someday....
