Saturday, May 11, 2013


I have been fighting a cold, but I am finally well enough to function outside of my bedroom. I am sitting in the corner of James' hospital room, wearing a mask, and keeping my distance. It has been three days since I have looked upon him. I have been aching for him. It is painful to be apart.

James has also had a rough few days. His NG tube became blocked again, and needed to be replaced (again). The procedure took several attempts, and was very painful and uncomfortable for James. It resulted in a lot of bleeding that continued throughout the night and into his lungs. He did not require a transfusion, and the bleeding has since slowed down, but I understand that it was frightening for everyone. He is still coughing blood, but there is a lot less concern. No further intervention will be necessary.

Two years ago, on May 11, 2011, James received his first life-saving phone call. The call came in the morning, and was followed by a 19 hour wait before heading into surgery in the early hours on May 12, 2011. It was during that wait that James and I shared our dreams for the future, for our future, and James proposed to me. Everything felt possible. Everything was possible. The surgery was a success, and James and I had the best year of our lives. We were both happier and healthier than ever imagined for ourselves. We were living long-distance, because I had to finish my degree. James flew back and forth between Victoria and Toronto for medical appointments, and of course, to be with me. We couldn't wait for the wedding to start our lives together.

Unfortunately, James' lung function had a slight decline in the days following his one year post-transplant bronchoscopy. It was a gradual decline that could be attributed to the bronchoscopy and grade one acute rejection. It was thought to be very treatable. It was not thought to be a cause for concern. James developed Shingles virus that invariably delayed treatment. We never imagined that everything could (and would) change overnight. We now know that everything can change in an instant.

It was a few weeks later that James and I had our magical evening. It was a celebration of life. Our wedding anniversary also became the anniversary of James' decline. His lung function took a sharp decline the following morning. Our lives have since revolved around hospitals, doctors, and tests. We went from euphoria to devastation. We didn't believe James had a long time to live. He didn't. James is still alive, because of the incredible medical expertise and care at Toronto General Hospital. We are forever grateful. 

The wait continues. James needs a second double lung transplant. We will not be leaving this ICU without it.

1 comment:

  1. I am one of the "lurkers" who follow your blog; feel like we know you and yet are unknown. It is a strange position! I must say I was hoping that you were going to update your blog soon as I was praying for the best but fearing the worst as it was unlike you to be silent on the blog for such an extended period. I was relieved for you, James and also myself when this morning you explained your position. I am sorry that you are having to experience this cold on top of all the other events that are shaping your lives at present. I hope that you are feeling well soon and that yours and James miracle will also be played out shortly. I admire your love for each other, your courage and your hope and the fact that you are willing to share this extraordinary experience with others. I will continue to lift your situation in my prayers. Keep the faith. May God bless you both. Ross.