Hello! I know it’s been a while since I last posted, but I thought I would give an update on what has happened in the last two months.
Starting on June 23rd, I was evaluated for a heart transplant and then six days later I was then hospitalized. On July 2nd, I was officially listed for my heart transplant and the next day, I was told that they had a heart for me. On July 4th, at 12:00pm I was rolled back into the operating room to receive my heart. I remember laying on my hospital bed with my parents next to me and the nurse’s unhooking me from all the monitors I was on when I then couldn’t breathe. I felt my heart racing (at 160 laying down) and I remember gasping for air. I remember my thoughts disrupting my peace that I had carried for so long:
What if this is the last time I see my parents?
What if the last thing I hear is my monitor beeping?
What if the last thing I taste is the saline being flushed into my IV?
What if.
What if…
What… if…..?
I couldn’t really tell you what day I was officially awake; they all blur together. Based off of what my parents told me, the first three days I was pretty in-and-out of consciousness. Once the doctors took me off of my heavy pain meds, I remember my family being there everyday up until my discharge day. I remember having physical and occupational therapy once a day everyday. I remember being the youngest on the floor by a couple of decades. I remember how bad my mental health got at this point.
It’s hard to pinpoint what was exactly causing me to feel the way I was feeling with all the new medications and the symptoms that came with them, but I was depressed. I couldn’t see my little sister due to age limits in the ICU, I missed my dogs, and I missed my bed. I cried nearly every day (if not multiple times in a day) because of it. Just getting up every day was hard physically and mentally. At this point guilt crept into my opened casket.
I felt guilty for ever accepting the heart. I had only been on the list for two days, I got my heart sooner than most do. I thought someone else deserved it more than me, or that I’m not as sick as others so they need it, or that I didn’t even deserve a second chance, because of the ‘what-ifs’:
What if this heart fails and it was all for nothing?
What if I run into major complications?
What if I’m not strong enough to make it through?
What if.
What if…
What…if…..?
After overcoming the in-hospital battles, I finally got to go home on July 14th after only being hospitalized for the worst 15 days of my life. I was so happy to finally be leaving and also beyond grateful that I got to go home so soon after my transplant. I was also afraid because I couldn’t go home to the old Emilee, but the new one: She just had her chest cut open and couldn’t lift more than five pounds, she couldn’t raise her arms above her head, she had to take 15 medications everyday just to stay alive, she had to watch everything she did and be extremely careful in her physically fragile state. I was afraid of messing up or accidently lifting myself out of bed and breaking the brace in my chest. Fear was all I felt the first two weeks at home.
As time went on, things got better as they always do. I learned my new schedule and understood my limitations and boundaries just for the time being. Life was hard and still is as I’m still adjusting to my new lifestyle. But I wouldn’t have it any other way because although it was hard, I get to breathe and see the sun rise again, where my donor won’t experience that again. I’m forever grateful for my donor and their family and the decision they made to donate their loved one’s organs. It truly is a gift ❤
“Stop being afraid of what could go wrong, and start being excited about what could go right.”- Tony Robbins
Emilee Unfiltered 