Monday night at 4pm I was spending time with my girlfriend for the last few moments of her trip when I received a phone call from a “Private Number”. She was about to head to the airport when I got wide-eyed and said I needed to answer a call. I knew this was likely to be a call informing me that a pair of lungs had been found for me, and I was right. The Coordinator told me it wasn’t for sure, and that by 8pm they would have a decision on whether the lungs were for me. At 7pm I had a call with them confirming that this was the case.
After I got off the phone I sat dumbfounded, and felt as though I was going to vomit. I’ve been waiting for 4 months now, and to the shock of everyone involved I have not received a phone call. I got to say goodbye to my partner who was flying back home, and make sure they were set up for a return trip right after surgery. This is something I had been saving for. I emailed my mailing list, and texted all of my family and friends the news. I had to report at 9pm on Tuesday the 22nd, just over 24 hours after I received my confirmation call. My sister moved up her flight from the end of the week to 5pm Tuesday.
When the next day came, I called in sick to work, and got to planning. I had to make sure all loose ends were tied financially, fixed my will a bit, and got calling my supports and saying goodbyes.
To say Tuesday was a good day is an understatement. I felt entirely unchained from the capitalist ideas of work, free of many life obligations, and got to focus on what mattered most: my relationships with my friends, family, and partner. I called and talked with as many as I could before my sister’s arrival. I drank coffee from my favorite coffee shop, Vivace, informed the baristas that the Biscotti Economy that I prop up would struggle while in the hospital, and ate at my favorite mexican food place, Carmelo’s.
On Tuesday I was truly Free, I had taken inventory of my life and found that I was very happy with where I was should it end in the near future, I saw all my family and friends that surrounded and supported me come together to make things happen. I have been scared all my life that I may have to be dragged kicking and screaming to the transplant table, but there was none of that. I had clarity that the finality of a transplant brings.
No news was good news according to the team, and no news had been given.
After picking my sister up from the airport and grabbing takeout for my last meal before new lungs, I received a phone call at 7pm from a 206 number, something I don’t see much as a Seattle transplant. I picked up the phone and received extremely devastating news: the lungs were no longer viable, and that I was to no longer report to the hospital that night.
While this call was happening, heartfelt messages continued pouring in on over email and text. Finishing the call, I stared at the stack that I had received realizing that I’d be informing every one of them that it was no longer happening the next day.
After going to the bar with friends and thinking some more, waking up very late, and wandering through the same routine as the day before, everything felt very strange. After some thought today, I think I can confidently say that this is what it feels like to be a Ghost at Your Own Transplant.
Everyone around me had given me goodbyes, heartfelt wishes, and truly opened up to wish me well. Work had started the paperwork. I went to bed in my own bed, but it feels as though the Real Ryan went to bed at the hospital. The Real Ryan was woken up by hospital staff to go to the OR, my Real Family said their goodbyes, and are currently seeing me in ICU.
The people I interact with daily are chugging along, and are unaware that a transplant hasn’t occurred until the Ghost informs them, and they look at it strange. Every one of them had a little piece taken out of them and given to the Real Ryan, and the Ghost is now cursed to forever haunt the halls of where the Real Ryan used to walk looking for Scraps of Tuesday.
This will happen a second time. Possibly a third. Maybe more. But now I get to carry all these little pieces with me until next time. I wonder whether I will ever lose the feeling of being a Ghost wandering the halls even after it finally happens.
Talk to you all soon.