I don’t take rejection well, and evidently, neither does my new liver.
Let’s just get down to it. Remember a couple of posts ago when I said I wasn’t feeling well again and I had to make a trip back to Virginia to check in with my doctor? I did that. After him telling me on the initial visit that he wasn’t sure why I wasn’t feeling well because everything looked good (surprise, surprise), I asked him to at least run another blood panel on me while I was there. The next day I got a call early in the morning saying, uh, yeah, you are NOT looking good. So a couple weeks and many blood tests, body scans, and one particularly fun liver biopsy later, yup, my body is rejecting Oliver. Did I ever mention we call my new liver Oliver? If not, that is a story for another time.
So, here I sit in the infusion room while writing this post. Yes, they are giving me a 12 day intravenous supply of strong steroids to try and get Oliver and the rest of my body to play nice again. Hopefully that will do the trick and I won’t have to go back on the transplant list and do that nightmare all over again. I’m telling you, being gutted like a fish was hard enough the first time. I’m not at all thrilled with the prospect of doing it again.
And if this post wasn’t depressing enough, during all the blood testing they found out I had a high PSA level which is an indicator for prostate cancer. I have an appointment with a Urologist next Tuesday to take a look at that. However, seeing as how prostate cancer runs in my family (Dad, and four uncles, two of which died from it), I am pretty sure that will be a BING BING on the old finger up the butt test. Nature is hitting me on two fronts now.
Sorry for all the moroseness, but I knew a few of you wanted to know what was going on. Please keep me in your thoughts if you would. I’ll check back in with all you beautiful people later.
6 thoughts on “I don’t take rejection well, and evidently, neither does my new liver.”
Oh hell man. I am so sorry to hear this. After all this time, I thought you had no more concerns on the liver front. I’ll leave the platitudes off as I’m sure you’ve already heard them enough – but I will say that my prayers (such as they are) are with you all the way, and I’ve got all the fingers crossed. Please DO stay in touch.
I do NOT approve this post at all!!š Ugh, I’m so sorry you’re dealing with all this again. I am thankful though that you are getting the treatment you need to stay on this side of the mountain!!! You know I’m a prayer warrior, so you will be in my daily prayers!!ā¤ļøā¤ļøā¤ļø Please keep us all posted.
Well, shit. I’m so sorry, Lee. I don’t know you well, but I have the sense you always keep your eye on the prize, i.e., hiking the Appalachian Trail, and when not doing that, hiking anywhere with your dogs. Keep those goals in mind, every day, as the medical folks poke, prod, stick and/or cut you to fix you. And they will fix you, in that I have faith. But I’m really hoping the fix doesn’t involve a new liver. “Oliver, stop being a brat and do your job!”
Damn. Iām so very sorry to hear this. I shall be crossing everything I still can that the 12 day treatment sets things right and you and Oliver can continue to happily coexist. No one should have to go through that Hell a second time, I canāt even imagine. Please know all your friends here are pulling for you and will send positive healing vibes.
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Iāve been thinking about you regularly anyway and will now increase that, hoping it will help. Iām already thinking of your current liver as Cousin Oliver. I donāt know if that was your inspiration but, you know, when he joined The Brady Bunch he seemed like a curse but then he turned out to be just what they needed. And good luck with the urologist. Do you know why urologists donāt live on islands? Because some of their patients are incontinent.
Dang Oliverā¦get with the program and step up!!! That sucks! Sending all the love and light your way!