I've been trying to think of what you call that last climb of the roller coaster, those moments when the car creaks to an almost halt before the last huge downhill that makes your heart pound, as wind rushes through your hair, skin pulled tight against your face as you careen out of control.
That's where I am. Right now.
The past few days have been the build up to this moment.
Thursday my brother's liver expert was back from vacation but he didn't hear anything. Saturday he found out the biopsy was fine.
Yesterday he was told he needed more testing by more specialists.
This morning I vented my frustrations to the donor social worker. An hour later my transplant coordinator called. With a transplant date. Which was a total shock. I had no idea the conversation was going in that direction. We were talking about the new testing, about communication lapses, about how much brother's been feeling lately. And next thing I know we're setting a time for me to go in for additional blood tests, to make sure I haven't contracted HIV or hepatitis in the past few weeks. I'll be at the lab first thing Thursday morning. And up at the hospital next Tuesday for pre-op testing.
Because, our transplant date is 5.9.11.
That is, as long as that worked for my brother. No one had spoken to him yet. And no one would for hours. I got the news at 12:30 or so and wasn't able to get in touch with him until after 4.
But I knew he'd be fine with the date.
Which is 13 days from today. And now, something entirely new is kicking in. But somehow, it's easier this time. Facing surgery, contemplating recovery, staring down the unknowns.
I'm learning to be ok with what it is. It will be what it will be and there's nothing I can do about it except bring myself to the table in the best shape I can be in, with the belief that this will work out.
And yes, I believe this will all work out. But man, I'm relieved to be at the top of the coaster, knowing I'm about to plunge into the unknown.