Surviving a Liver Transplant.

Surviving a Liver Transplant

Now that I’ve had my first anniversary with my new liver, it’s probably safe to say that I am surviving a liver transplant. That first year is a little iffy, what with medications and rejection issues. The odds are now officially in my favor. If you’re a betting person, you better bet that the chances of me being here next year are strong. It’s taken a lot to get here. My survival tools include a wide array of people, places, and things.

These have been some of my survival tools that my family and I used during the first year post liver transplant:

Rejection meds – Even if they make me feel sick, achy, heart racy, I take them faithfully. They save my life every day for the rest of my life.

Warm stuff – A heating pad soothes back muscles and helps uncrunch a stiff neck. A warm bath relaxes me all over.

Hovering medical team – I love those people who tell me exactly how many pills to take and watch over all of my details.

Forgiveness – When I lose my thoughts and wear people out, it’s time to put me to bed and close the door. I wear myself out sometimes. We all understand and we all forgive and move on.

No drama – I don’t do drama. I’m sorry if your goldfish died or your favorite shoes on sale  weren’t in your size. Go tell someone else, I’ll listen later. I’m busy healing.

Prayer – It does hurt me to hear that others are having problems. I’ll make a deal. Since I spend a lot of time in prayer, I will ask for help for you too.

Comfort food – Good soup, some chicken, protein shake, or eggs and toast are always welcome. If you’re coming by, stock me up. I need protein to heal.

Common sense – If my eyes are closed, that means I want to withdraw from the current scene. If I’m groaning, I may need a pain pill. If I’m dripping, find the leak and help me clean up.

Detectives – When common sense fails, look for clues. I’m probably clueless about what I need. Help me out here.

Calm people – I let the falling apart people drift to the outskirts of my life. I don’t have the time or energy to take care of anybody but myself.

Stubbornness – I’ve made my mind up to see this through. When push comes to shove, I keep pushing. That’s what it takes.

Hilarity – Come on with your goofy self. Bring on the silliness. I’m talking about some serious stuff going on with my body. I may need you to turn on the cartoons.

No expectations – If you need me to do something right now, you’re asking the wrong person. I ain’t doing nothing at all but getting past this first year unless I feel like it.

Pedicure – Please get the clippers out and give me some help. I can’t reach the darn things without busting a stitch (true story) so stick the tired dogs in a pan of warm water and clip the toenails. We don’t want any Howard Hughes clacking going on when I walk.

No doubt – It may look a little hopeless some days. I may even doubt my healing times. I stick it out and erase the doubt.

The first year was a lot of things. Most of all, it was miraculous. I mean, totally, a miracle a day. I hope you find all the things you need to survive a liver transplant. I also hope that you can be rid of the things you don’t need. With balance, you’ll get through it just fine.

This article represents the opinions, thoughts, and experiences of the author; none of this content has been paid for by any advertiser. The HepatitisC.net team does not recommend or endorse any products or treatments discussed herein. Learn more about how we maintain editorial integrity here.

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