Joc is doing rather better than can be expected. By all accounts the surgeons were somewhat surprised at her unexpected degree of jaundice, and no doubt cried yuk! poo! at first sight of the old liver. Our Joc was definitely on the skids.
The operation itself was encouragingly brief at about 7.5 hours, followed by another couple of hours of tests and then another hour or two before we could get to see her. They are remarkably relaxed in intensive care units nowadays, at least at this unit, and we got to hold her hand and tell her she is a superJoc while she gradually came to over the next couple of hours, her two personal IC nurses happily working around us.
Raised on a diet of The Matrix and Terminator 2, Leah and Zac were quite unfazed by the hundreds of tubes and wires connected to beeping screens and drug-dispensing machines. Indeed thay had absorbed enough of Joc's bio-lectures over the years to cast an approving eye over the deep green of the biliary drain, the soft pink of the abdominal drain, and the encouraging volume in the kidney drain tube as it changed slowly from its former ominous coca-cola colour to a cheery, beery yellow.
On the other hand Leah's boyfriend came in briefly and after a while
announced he was going to faint. I for one took no notice - perhaps believing
fainting went out with Women's Lib or something - but when he began to
totter towards half a million dollars worth of technology connected to J, we
steered him to the centre of the room where he gracefully collapsed.
Ignoring the humorous outrage at my cruelty I whipped out a pocket digicam to record him lying on the floor surrounded by the ICU team while Joc languished in the background, in case it is expedient to blackmail him at some time in the future...
They went home to get some much-needed sleep, and Joc and I established some sort of manual code of hand-squeezes and tickles for communication. The ICU staff bore with remarkable patience my sometimes forceful arguments when I felt that Joc's feelings as thus expressed, did not agree with their machine-based assessments. (The transition from assisted to unassisted breathing was not pretty and is obviously not pleasant, and Joc is always nauseous after anaesthetic...)
Eventually J indicated by a stern scratch-and-point that I was to go home to bed, no doubt to the relief of all and sundry. I did not sleep that much. After mailbombing this list this morning I shall have a shower and make my way back to the hospital by about 11, where we expect to find J off the ventilator.
They said that we could expect her to be confused and 'out of it' for the first day or so, but I can't see it. Already out of fear and guilt I have done a machine load of washing and resolved to experiment with an alternative diet to coffee and donuts :)
There will probably be more trips to the theatre for minor adjustments, at least for a nip and tuck to her abdominal hernia, and other troubles in the ensuing days. Joc's immune system is unusually agressive and somewhat complex, and a 100% tissue match was always a one-in-a-million chance.
We can expect various rejection and other issues to crop up, but liver and kidneys appear to be working and J was delighted to hear that she did not even need any extra blood from the Blood Bank - sadly, a relief to hear in this day and age.
We will do as advised, take it one step at a time, and be hugely grateful for what we have.
Love, JH