And now it’s Saturday after the practice run. Disappointed? Yes. Now what? Some friends were asking if we were going to work on Monday. Couldn’t think of a good reason to stay home. Still need the job. Staying home would just lead to bad thoughts. Come Monday it would be back to normal. I mean after Friday when would the next chance come? Week? Month? Year? Was that my best chance? You see how work was a much better idea than wallowing in that mess.

Got a favorite Monday song? Come Monday-Buffet. Monday Monday-Momas and Popas. Rainy Days and Mondays-The Carpenters. Monday Morning-Fleetwood Mac. Then there is my pick for this little ditty, Manic Monday by The Bangles. Perhaps you could listen a little while you read on. It’s about to be a full blown manic.

Rolled into Mann Middle School early Monday, February 28. Early is 7:00 a.m. as teachers aren’t due until 8:20 ish. No one there, great time to get stuff done. I missed Friday so I had stuff to do. Dragged in my oxygen. Double tank roller, POC and accessories to go with.

Lot’s of looks and questions from everyone. Nothing much to tell. Tried to give me burnt pizza lungs. No thank you. Here we are. A little after 9 Trinetta Williams stopped by the Media Center and asked if I could help her with a projector problem. About 9:15 I rolled into her classroom and went to work. Easy issue to fix but I wanted to make sure she could fix for in case there is a next time. At 9:25 my phone rings. Name? One I have never seen but because of the lungs I was told to answer everything that rings. Lung calls don’t all come from a Tampa General phone. Now students are rolling in the halls and trickling into the room. I hear something about lungs and transplant so the sharp spoon that I am I blurt out “Is this a joke?” For the record that was not the proper response. She got hot and told me she does not joke about lung transplants and then says “Do you want these lungs”.

I hung up and looked at Trinetta. She said time to go? She stood and I gave her a hug and said a prayer with her. Back up the walkway to media center to gather my stuff and go. When I walked into the media center Nicci D. was teaching the TV production class. She looked at me and said “You got another call, didn’t you?” After I got my stuff and was walking out the door her class clapped me out the door. This time we sent texts to brothers called the kids and headed in.

SSDD only the time table was a bit shorter. We got to the hospital at 11 and was told we were looking at a 5:00 start. Less time to think about the same stuff which was ok by me. Same suspects with me in Cindy and Christy. Needless to say we were all a bit reserved after the dry run on Friday. We get to showtime and all head to the OR. Different surgeon and staff but still relaxed and chatty which is my trademark. When the surgeon brings me the pics of the lungs they have I am stunned. My description of the lungs is that they look like plump Sam’s Club chicken breasts! Doctor said they were big and very healthy. Now it’s a go. Before they turned on the goodnight gas I asked if they could play a song for me. I knew I wanted to hear one and told them the doctor could then play his stuff. I asked for “Try Everything” by Shakira. I got some looks and then I told them it was a favorite of my granddaughter. Amelia would be singing it tonight before bed and I just wanted to connect with her. Out went the lights and when I woke what I felt is almost indescribable.

Monday became Tuesday after the 10 hour surgery. Ended around 3 a.m. I don’t remember what time I was coherent of surroundings but I remember being thankful. Here I am. This is going to be tough with this tube down my throat. All I wanted was that thing gone. As I chewed on it and got told to stop I chewed harder. That’s all I could think of. My family did not take a pic with the ventilator in. I do remember it as step one to recovery. I still had oxygen getting pumped in and it was high volume treatment. Check it out here if interested Thoughts at this point are a little blurred. Some things were crystal clear. Dr. Patel made it clear from day one that recovery starts with getting out of bed ASAP. Good luck getting me out of bed while on that happy juice. Maybe in 39 hours I’ll give it try.

Intensive care unit at TGH is just that, intensive. The comings and goings within the unit are still a blur. Lots of poking and prodding. There were four tubes (two on each side of my chest) draining blood, and other shizz from the chest cavity. There was the usual other tube draining other liquid from me. About the time I was getting comfortable it was time to go. Just to let you know one little weirdness. On the way to Transplantopia (all transplant patients, all the time) there was this ride on my bed to an elevator that only I could see the way this Tetris piece could fit. I only wish I had counted the number of bumps into the walls, elevator and then instruct my driver how it could fit. Thank goodness the Fentanyl was still flowing.