And, so we are here. At home still and again. Recovering from the hardest month yet. It is October 2019. September consisted with a trip to emerg every second week. September was one year off work for Garry, and one year since being referred to the Transplant Clinic in Vancouver. The catch to receiving this life-giving liver is that you have to be the sickest to be next in line for transplant. I am ever watching, ever wondering, if we are at this point yet. I know the stages, the signs. My old, good, wonderful friends who have been through transplant have made us well aware. Our new, welcoming, liver mentor friends have told us all of their stories. We know it has to get worse to get better. We are finally now at the worst.
Another two weeks had passed and Garry was having abnormal (for him) pain in his abdomen. You get used to the disease developing little by little, and at this point it was hard to decipher what was emergent to investigate and what you just deal with. After three days we decided a trip to emerg again was probably a good idea. It went downhill quickly from there. We spent one week in ICU, and I really do mean we as I was not leaving him alone morning or night. And then, we spent another week and a half in hospital in order for Garry to be stable enough to come home. All the end stage liver disease symptoms that he has not dealt with yet showed up; varices, ascites, infection...
Through this journey it has felt like the heat has been turned up progressively and that we are being prepared in each new wave of hard. This seventeen days in our hometown hospital was just the same. Family stepped in, friends lent their arms, and so many others came close with meals and prayers. We found a rhythm that we wished we had done already in Vancouver, but now are prepared to overcome. Kids had a home base and were able to be in their own safe spaces with my mom at our house, and they unknowingly and increasingly needed that. Garry had his mom and sister, rotating in and out with me to lessen the burden and give him support wholly. And, just when it felt like too much to sustain any longer, Garry was released from hospital to come home.
Now, we know the silver lining is that he has been pushed to the front of the list, and we are stronger and more prepared once again as we take a breath. It is full care now, as Garry is very weak and needs more caregiving as an outpatient, and this in itself is building our understanding of what is yet to come.
I am writing these stories very simply to let anyone in, and especially those who will have to walk this journey after us. It is Garry's story within our family and so I have purposely left out some details for him, but we both want it to count. There are also intertwining stories of hope-filled gifts of uncanny circumstance that have gotten us through, that we can share over tea when we have a minute.
