The Gift of Life: Part Three

The long wait began. My parents tried to find things to occupy their time. My mom did odd jobs to earn money and my dad took up sewing, as it didn’t require lots of stamina. They found a church and attended every Sunday and followed church service with a meet up at Second Wind – a group put together for those pre and post transplant to talk about what to expect and how things were going in their journey. It was a great source of support for my parents and they still like to attend when they have to stay the night for his annual check-ups. We visited them as often as we could. My self and my middle brother were both attending college and my youngest brother was still in high school. My middle brother and I looked after my youngest brother and helped him with his school activities. We would go and stay for the weekend every so often. We spent our Thanksgiving and Christmas breaks with them in St Louis too.

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I was pregnant with Sylas at the time. He was born right before Christmas. It was hard not having my parents there when he was born, and they didn’t get to meet him until we visited for Christmas. We Skyped a lot when we weren’t able to visit. Even harder was the decision I had to make between visiting them for Christmas or staying home and having our first Christmas as a family of three. Javier only had Christmas day off from work and couldn’t come with us for the week.

We got to know my parent’s neighbors and his newfound friends that worked at the rehab center at the hospital. Even when we were there to visit, my dad had to attend his daily therapy. We would all go and sit in the waiting area talking to the extremely wonderful staff while he did his therapy. Everyone was so kind and caring there. They are truly a wonderful bunch of people. From the respiratory therapists to the concierge to the valet.

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Still, it was a long hard wait for my dad. He would get down in the dumps at times in the waiting. Wondering if he would make it before he got the call, wondering how long he would be away from home and the anticipation of how everything would play out if/when he got his lungs. Its a very weird and scary place to be when waiting for a transplant. Things can go wonderfully well, or horribly wrong but when its the only choice you have left at survival, what else can you do?


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