Started From the Bottom Now We Here

It has been a little over two weeks since my last post, which announced the transplant I received three weeks ago. As such, many of you have no idea what has been going on post-transplant. That is totally my fault because I have been putting off blogging. The first week I was incredibly busy with procedures and tests and physical therapy and, most importantly, naps. During the second week I fell into a little bit of a depression and didn’t really feel like doing anything. I don’t know why I was in such a sucky mood. Perhaps I realized how much work I had to put in now that I was breathing on my own without any oxygen. Maybe it was the fact that I was out of the ICU and wasn’t receiving the one-on-one attention I was used to. On the regular floor my nurses had two other patients and it suddenly wasn’t all about me. I know. How terrible, right? Well, I obviously got out of that little bit of darkness, because here I am, writing a blog, which I hope satisfies your Jordan craving.

I moved up out of the dark and dingy basement they call the CVICU last Wednesday and settled into my big room-with-a-view on the 8th floor. As great as it was to move on up in life, I was a little sad to be leaving the nurses and staff in the ICU. I had spent a month with the same people and had formed great relationships with my nurses. Everyone knew me, even if they had never taken care of me. I was something of a celebrity down there, you know. And then I come up here and I’m just another patient. Don’t they know who I am? Don’t they realize I’ve evaded death not only once but twice?!

I loved my CVICU nurses. They really made a rough time much more bearable. They were kind and helpful, not only to me, but my family. They encouraged me to keep pushing and working, even when I really just wanted to sleep the day away. They advocated for me when I couldn’t. Most importantly, they put up with the fact that I couldn’t speak and they were forced to read lips. Sometimes they failed and I was forced to use the dry erase board, but I forgive them for their shortcomings. I’m happy to say that the dry erase board has been put away and no longer represents my voice. The CVICU may be tucked into the deepest part of the hospital, making it seem scary and dismal, but the staff brighten it up, making you forget about the darkness trying to force its way in. I’m forever grateful to the mole-people/staff that work down there.

When I came to the 8th floor, I stubbornly refused to believe that there could be good nurses like those down stairs. I was quickly proved wrong, of course. The nurses up here are just as amazing as those I had in the ICU. Although the patients aren’t as sick, the nurses have more patients to take care of. Their phones are constantly ringing off the hook and they are often running from one room to the next. Many of them have to set alarms on their personal phones to keep track of medicine times for each patient. It’s pretty impressive how theses nurses stay sane. They are just as kind and compassionate, and what’s even better is that many of them know who I am after only a week because of how often I walk the halls. It’s pretty great being famous.

Apparently being a small-time celebrity doesn’t excuse you from having to exercise a lot. I have to walk at least a mile each day, which is more work than you think. My new lungs struggled at first, but now it is much easier. I can even climb stairs! (Kind of. I can climb like two flights before I’m pooped.) They pulled my trache out a couple of days ago so now I can finally speak. I know my fans have been waiting to hear me speak, some of whom have never heard my voice before. They also took out my last chest tube today so I am finally free of all tubes and attachments. I’m unplugged and ready to roll, like an electric Barbie Jeep.

If everything goes right, I will be home by this weekend. I promise to post a blog when I get home so we can all celebrate my return to the real world. After I take a nap in my own bed, of course.

Spoiler Alert

As you all know, a week ago I was placed on the transplant list. On Wednesday, October 28, my dad woke me up at 2:30 in the morning with a sweet little kiss on the cheek. He is such a gentle creature, like a deer in a meadow or a puppy snuggled up in some comfy blankets. I was actually very startled because I was finally in a deep sleep and he had left the hospital hours ago. A little confused, I looked up at him with the signature scathing look that my family loves to call me out on. Then he told me we received an offer on lungs. I was shocked that it happened within 36 hours.Based on my Lung Allocation Score, I had a feeling it would be quick, but not that quick. I refused to get excited because the lungs had not been approved by my doctors. There was a chance that this was a dry run and I refused to get my hopes up, only to be let down.

They prepped me for surgery and by 6 o’clock I was in the operating room, waiting for news that the surgery was ago. I settled in for a nap, knowing it could be hours before I knew anything. At 8:30, I woke up to the surgery prep team informing me that the lungs were good and the surgery was ago. They put the anesthesia through my IV, and I drifted off, knowing that I may never wake up again, but also hoping that these lungs would be the ones to last me for years.

The surgery lasted 8 hours but was successful. Although the surgery is advanced and dangerous, the most difficult part for me is the recovery. I have to teach my body to breathe again. I haven’t breathed on my own in over a month and before that, my breathing was labored and I was on oxygen for months. When you take short breaths, your diaphragm doesn’t stretch out. So now I have to work out my diaphragm and work out my new lungs. I take walks three times a day and breathe for a couple hours off the vent three times a day as well. Both of these things help my lungs and diaphragm improve and adjust to my body. It’s like re-calibrating a machine.

The second worst part is that I am very behind on my TV shows. After I was hospitalized, I didn’t have much time or desire to watch TV. I still don’t really have the time, but it doesn’t change the fact that when I get out of here I will be catching up on my DVR. HOWEVER, it has been very, very, very, very difficult to avoid spoilers. The internet is a terrible place that needs more safety regulations, such as spoiler alerts and a limit on how many porn stars can follow you on Instagram. Let’s work on that, okay?