General
What is your "If you don't laugh, you'll cry" moment?
I had a moment this morning I wasn't sure I wanted to share but decided to because A. we need to normalize the not so glamarous parts of living with transplant/chronic illness and B. it was one of those if I didn't laugh I would cry moments and maybe you need the reminder to laugh at yourself.
So a little backstory is I have a post incisional hernia, currently impacting my GI system, and am waiting to see a surgeon to get it fixed. I've had it for almost the entire 2 years since I had my transplant, it caused no issues until it did. I've had GI issues pretty much all my life, they're pretty sure my hernia is positioned exactly right where its involving my intestines, basically just created the perfect storm.
So anyway today I was supposed to have this photo shoot with a photographer friend of mine highlighting my scars, my journey as a transplant recipient, blah blah blah. I quickly scarfed down a yogurt while I was getting ready, and it didn't take too long before I realize that's not gonna work. Within a matter of minutes I go from feeling ok to looking like I could be pregnant. I rush to the bathroom because one way or another, this yogurt is not staying down.
And then I realize we have no toilet paper. none. and I get a text. It was my photographer friend "Be there in 5!"
Somehow I'd gotten the time wrong (hello tac brain!). Where we were meeting was over a half hour away from my house.
I do the only thing I can think of in that moment and hop in the shower. I realize the "cute" scar photos probably aren't happening, put on my hernia belt which felt like it totally went against the attempts at being cute and ran out the door resembling something not unlike a drowned rat in a harness.
I showed up (late) and luckily it was outside and we were able to use some shadows and cleverly disguised props to hide the fact that my stomach looks like its growing a head. She showed me some of the pictures on her camera, and it actually turned out better than I could have imagined.
Just in case you thought that post transplant life was supposed to be this beautiful thing. Sometimes it is. But sometimes it looks like running around like a chicken with your head cut off, washing poop off in the shower and dealing with complications 2 years post op when life was "supposed to" be back to normal.
I hope today gives you an opportunity to laugh at yourself. Or maybe make one.
(Also for anyone who is curious I have a scan this week to follow up on the extreme nature of my hernia, get a better look at everything involved and then book a surgery date. I am getting medical treatment, and am being followed closely by my medical team. I'll keep y'all posted)
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Hello All,
I am new to this forum, and thrilled by this topic of discussion as I am a deep believer in the healing power of laughter.
My brief back story, I am now four years with my new heart, I had cardiac sarcoidosis, undiagnosed until I was found by husband in an event of ventricular fibrillation, then cardiac arrest and cardio conversion on my kitchen floor, resulting in a 30 day protracted ICU stay. I was scared deep into my soul. My life turned upside down and shaken violently.
Prior to my transplant, I was stuck in ICU because, I did not have a pace maker defibrillator and was too weak to put one in for a while. I waited. I became very aware of the rhythms of the hospital, shifts changes, noises, staff members schedules, and the other patients surrounding me.
During this time my husband would visit in the evening, all the while attempting keep our life functioning.
This must all sound very familiar to most of you in some form or another.
One of those evenings occurred at the end of a very grim day for me. Someone in the bay(room) next-door had passed away from cardiac arrest, I heard the whole thing, I spent most of it terrified and in tears.
As usual, my husband visits, he brought me secret treats, love, and good cheer. We settled into a conversation about the day, when my new neighbor starts yodeling, and very loudly. His name was Robert. The poor guy was in some form delirium, this yodeling went on loudly for about an hour. I know his name because the nurses took to calling to him from the nursing station to quiet down. “Hey Robert, please keep it down, you are bothering other people”.
Robert had bigger plans for the evening.
A secondary backstory, my bay(room) was located so that if I had my curtains opened, which was always the case when my nurse was out during my husbands visits, my view was down the hallway of the ICU ward. I had a very good view of the comings and goings.
Robert was a man of 75-ish, very tall, very thin, grizzled white hair and long beard, Think of Dumbledore. His big moment started with a loud rustling and crashing heard from his room.
Robert was free, happy, smiling and waving, totally naked, all parts out for public view, and running very, very quickly…off he went down the ICU hall, followed by a quickly responding medical team…..And yes he is still very loudly yodeling. Not singing, yodeling. And full stride sprinting.
The increasing medical staff entourage following him was struggling to keep up, and definitively not catching him. Some of them running behind him with hospital gowns in attempts to through and drape over him. I guess to cover him slow or slow his progress? Doctors and nurses joining in the pursuit. Many alerts are being sounded over PA system.
Maybe 15 minutes later two very large burly hospital security folks came rounding the ICU hallway with Robert gently and happily draped between them. In hospital gown and yes still yodeling. Safely returned to his bed, he quieted down.
I think that because of the quality tender care I was receiving by these same folks chasing Robert and the overwhelming fear I was experiencing. It was just all too much.
The release of laughter just flooded me, Roberts escape effort, let me and husband slide into a deep healing laughter that felt so good.
All people deserve kindness, Robert got it and I did too.
Transplant Patient
I love that story! Thanks for sharing. People like Robert are my favourite - just doing their own thing and not caring about what anyone else thinks. Hospital life can be so hard, and it's a wonderful thing when we can find joy