Wednesday, June 21, 2006


Since I had to be up at 4:30am for a 6:50am flight to Minneapolis this morning, I was already in bed sound asleep when the phone rang last night at 10:15pm.

Me: Hello?
Dad: Hey, it's Dad. Did I wake you up?
Me: Yeah, but it's OK. What's going on?
Dad: Well, its a long story, but there was a problem with the donor heart.
Me: Oh my God.
Dad: No, no, no. Everything's fine. Mom's OK, but they aborted the transplant.
Me: Did they have her cut open?
Dad: No, thank God, they didn't.
Me: So then no transplant.
Dad: Nope, not today. She was under such deep sedation, they're going to watch her for another 24 hours, then she'll get to go back home. Now you go back to sleep and we'll talk tomorrow.
Me: OK, Dad. Tell her I love her and I'll call you sometime tomorrow to check on her. Thanks for calling me.

Looks like she'll get another heart another day. Thanks to everyone who commented and left good thoughts here. I really appreciated it. Especially the dancing foot boy with the size 13s.


At 11:24 AM, Blogger David said...

I'm sorry, it's all my fault. I should have done my transplant dance naked in a rain storm during a full moon, but I was pressed for time so I cut a few corners. My bad.

Oh, and shouldn't I be the one telling people my body parts are two sizes larger than they really are? It's more convincing when you say it though. I'll give you that--Maybe I should team up with you when I chat online. You could give people my stats for me. What are you doing from 3-4 am tonight?


Post a Comment

<< Home