Dear Blog readers,

Like i mentioned in my previous post, i was wheeled into the Operation theater for the Liver Transplant. I was cracking inane jokes to cover my anxiety. The doctors were actually laughing at them, maybe to express that they understood. 

But then once they put the "gas mask" on, i slipped into oblivion. Down a long tunnel i went. The lights faded, the sounds were muffled and then nothing.

The next thing i knew was the doctors were slapping my face to wake me up. Telling me that the surgery was over, and that all went fine. Somewhere from the deep within, i also heard my mother's voice, asking me how i was, telling me all was well through her tears, of which i am sure much was shed and there was more to shed too. 

But i soon drifted off. My parched mouth and dry throat croaked that i wanted water, but no, the doctors have no mercy! The nurse took a little pity on me and wet my lips!

Into a stupor i went, and then i kept drifting in and out of sleep. But a few hours later, the doctors insisted that i should be "mobilised" -- meaning that i should be moving from bed to chair. 

I realised, i had gone from being a human to being an octopus. There were pipes coming out from my body like tentacles. Three in both the sides of my abdomen, one coming out from my neck etc. If i weren't in so much pain, i think i would have even found it funny and taken a picture of myself!!

Gaining mobility earlier is a sure sign of recovery. With much pain and some difficulty i did sit in a chair for a few minutes. But i had to go back to the bed, because i was in shock!. My face, legs, and arms were swollen!!  Can you believe, i went from  61 kgs (on entering hospital) to 79 Kgs by the end of the next day!! I was swollen up with fluid.

And the doctors said, that i should walk around and that the fluid would slowly flow out of my system!! Walk!! My skin was so stretched, that i thought that it would tear and all the blood and gore would come pouring out! It was painful to walk, but it was more fearful to lie down!!

For a person who had a low appetite to begin with, there i was, hungry and thirsty as a crow. But no... no water, most certainly nothing to eat. They starved me for 72 hours, enough for me to realise what was acute hunger and terrible thirst. Then slowly, 10 ml of water every hour, and then slow increase. 

The new liver which has been transplanted is a foreign body, so the body naturally tries to get rid of it. So, the patient is given immuno suppressants which prevent the body from rejecting the new liver. But then it also means that the body has very low immunity to fight against any infection whatsoever. Any small infection (which the human body is constantly exposed to in general) is also a big risk. So, anyone who enters the patients room must be clad in sterile gown, mask, gloves et al. Even care- givers are allowed two visits in a day -- to watch from a distance. No coming close to the patient, no pat on the back, no jaadu ki jhappi etc. I realised then how important touch is, how reassuring it is. 

Steroids are given to prevent rejection. These steroids cause hallucinations, altered realities, significant imagery etc.

I am lying there with my eyes closed (too tired to open my eyes!) and i "feel" the presence of people clad in masks moving around me. There is a photo print on the wall (of flowers) which changes shape!! Suddenly i can see people in that photo print.... looking at me, sometimes moving!! I hear voices in my head asking me to take the medicine and i put my hand out.............but then i realise that it was just a part of my stupor. I see vague shapes, i see people from my past, i see unknown persons, i feel something is happening, but dont know what, there is confusion which i cant even put into words!! 

I am awake but i am lying there with my eyes closed. I can hear the nurses talk but i dont feel like responding. I don't know when i have slept, nor when i have woken up. But yet, i respond to the doctors and others, quite coherently. I can understand what they say. So, i have not lost my mind. I am extremely tired, but why? I am sleepy, but not really. The surgery stiches (45 of them) dont hurt, i can feel the staples, but they dont cause any pain (that will come later, the doctor said!). 

I was in constant pain. Back Pain.The doctors were indeed baffled at the back pain. They felt it was primarily due to lying on the Operation table for 7-8 hours which could have caused muscle spasms in my back. But then muscle relaxants did not help, neither did analgesics. They even did an MRI, but that did not show anything significant either (should i be happy or unhappy at that?)

 Maybe i was in pain for so long  i had internalised my pain. The doctors would give some pain medication, but effects lasted only for a couple of hours. Then it was back again (pun intended!!) . 

To add insult to injury, because of the various drains, i cannot turn to sleep on my side, and the longer i lie flat on my back, more the pain i experience!!

The doctors said, that i should do some breathing excercises, walk around the room, eat well and soon the pain will reduce. But i remember thinking, "If only the pain were to reduce just a little, i will do the breathing excercises. If only the pain were to reduce just a little, i will walk around the room and show the doctors how determined i am to get well soon. If only the pain were to reduce just a little....." Little did i realise that i was putting the cart before the horse. If only i were to do the breathing excercises, no matter how painful, i would get "just a little better". The effort must come before the result. And for some strange reason, it took me a while to understand this basic truth.

I hadn't realised that pain is an emotion so strong, that it gets into your head. There is pain and there is a feeling of pain. Even when one reduces, the other remains -- because the mind is so used to being in pain, that maybe it doesn't allow the pain to go away. I remember lying on the bed, constantly chanting Gods name, feeling the pain, drifting off, and then returning back to the pain. 

There was one night when i had a dream which explained the last 4 lines of Vishnu Sahashranama -- and how lucidly! i felt i understood it perfectly. I thought i had understood the purpose of life!! But after i "woke" up, it slowly dissipated. Even now when i think back, i know that i had understood it but i cannot remember it anymore. I felt happy and sad at the same time, but most of all i felt confused. When did dreams or visions end and reality begin?

I had visions where i was lost, abandoned and felicitated. I remember that in my vision, somebody complimented me on my dress and i looked down and almost screamed with horror that it had changed into a hospital gown. A cinderalla moment!!

For nearly 12 days in was in constant pain. Then i got into a state, where i began to think that i could not take this pain anymore. I felt i could not remember a time when i had not felt pain. I felt i should just curl up and die. I began to pray to God to take me. I begged my mother to "let me go" (wanting to believe that her prayers were the ones which were preventing me from dying, else how could anyone suffer so much pain and still be alive?). On my phone I recorded Good bye messages to my mother, begging her to "release me", forgive me, and how much i loved her. I recorded messages for my husband and son and daughter-in-law. (Fortunately i did not send it. )

I begged the doctors, to give me morphine, and if necessary put me on a ventilator, keep me alive for a couple of hours, so i could say my goodbyes, and then remove the ventilator, so i could die and end this pain. I remember the Doc, smiling at me  (or my foolishness), and telling me that i was just being depressed. (Maybe i am a drama queen!!)

The doctors assured us that this is not unnatural. Depression is caused by various factors -- pain, medication, environment (small hospital room, lack of natural sunlight, air etc.) The patient has to work towards getting better without being depressed. The patient must want to go home (not curl up and die), to familiar surroundings. Slowly i dragged myself out of my depression, with the help of my family, friends, doctors and nurses. They kept reminding me of how strong i was, how i had got thru earlier crisises, slowly egging me to believe that if they all believed it was true, maybe there was after all some truth in what they said!! I remember thinking of this tag line we had once thought of for a cancer campaign " If you have been through hell, you have a tale to tell" .... and thus was born the idea of telling my story of my visit to hell. With this in mind, i crawled out of my hell, inch by inch, slipping back occassionally, but still crawled out.

In the hospital, the patient is busy -- Everyday, the nurses are drawing blood, there is an Xray almost every day, there is a sound scan almost every day, there is a physio therapist who comes in and very sweetly makes you breathe (breathing excercises, when opening and closing your eyes, is the only excercise you can manage), walk around in the room, work out a diet plan with the dietician (who watches your blood reports like a hawk, and tweaks your diet -- today potassium is a little high, so lets avoid this vegetable, your calcium levels are good, so let me include this in your diet.), eat, get jabbed for checking blood sugar, and then insulin injections, etc etc and then ..... repeat!!!  If you think the patient has nothing to do in hospital, i beg to differ!

Yes, i did come out of hospital. Most transplant patients are discharged from hospital in 2 weeks, i took 3 weeks. I figured out many things for myself. The fact that we have to take the action before we can expect results. We have to control our minds actively, and it is possible. Family and environment make a HUGE difference. Talking to friends is important (i was reluctant at first, because i wanted to always portray a vision of a strong, cheerful and "together" person to my friends, and did not want to come across as anything less!!). It is easy to lie down and take "rest" but that is not the solution. Activity is important, both physical and mental. Meditation is necessary, but so is excercise. And counting your blessings is so essential. 

My mother is a constant source of inspiration. She is  working out new receipes to ensure i enjoy the food (even with the restrictions on what i can eat), she is extending herself to include things she didn't earlier do. She is always cheerful when she speaks to me. Husband is doing so many things inspite of all the constraints. Man friday, nurse, driver, care-giver etc etc all rolled in one. Son visiting from the US, just for a week, but here to help and cheer me up. Sister giving me advice and ideas that help build my day with action. A fine team of doctors, who never baulked at any question we asked them. Would it not be churlish if, after all this, i dont recover and quickly?

So friends i am recovering. Though quickly is hardly a word i can control. But recovering i am -- slowly but surely. My depressive thoughts are behind me. I try to build a daily schedule and stick to it. Yes, there are good days and bad. There are some days, when i cannot help myself from falling asleep. But then i try to make it up the next day. 

The wishes of friends, family etc is greatly appreciated. Writing this part of the blog has been truly an experience -- for i relived the past 30 or so days. 

I would greatly appreciate  your comments in the comments section, which will give me an opportunity to read and re-read your comments to enrich me.