Wednesday, February 20, 2013

One Final Surgery

(reposted from last year)

The transplant team was supposed to call us and give us a two hour window in which we could decide to go back down to the hospital and walk with Travis to his final surgery. Waking up the next morning, I knew something was wrong. We hadn't heard anything. We waited until early afternoon to call. The coordinator apologized for the delay but said they had found a match at UCLA and that they would be able to use his kidney and liver. Through the pain of losing my boy, I was thankful that he would live on in someone else. We headed down to the hospital to say one last goodbye. Our parents came too. We all took a few more minutes with our boy. Even though I know he was already an angel, it felt good to sit by him and hold his hand. It felt good to remind him we loved him. I made sure to tell him that his last surgery wouldn't hurt and that he was such a hero to help someone else out. Roger and I walked with the nurses and the everyone else as we proceeded to the OR. Although it was late in the evening, patients and parents still watched as this huge parade went by. I wanted to yell at them. I wanted to tell everyone what we sacrificing. I wanted to tell them that my beautiful boy was giving us all one final act of bravery and strength. We stopped at the elevator and the head OR nurse said. We need to stop here. I kissed his hand and they wheeled him away. The was the last time I saw my baby boy. The boy who had brought us 16 months of joy. The boy who taught me what true love is. The sweet boy who had to fight so hard from the moment he was born. It wasn't fair.

The social worker asked if we wanted the blanket he was wrapped in. She asked us to wait in the lobby. We sat the same lobby where just a couple days ago we had waited with our boy for his 4th surgery. He was so full of life. We were so full of hope.

Now, we were all empty.

The social worker and transplant coordinators came out with some things for us. Among them, the blanket he last was wrapped in. They also presented us with a medal. The medal signified that Travis was a hero and gave the ultimate sacrifice. They promised to call once they all arrived at UCLA. With our family, we walked out of the hospital. We were all broken. I'm not even sure how we had the strength to physically move. I just wanted to stay there. If I didn't leave maybe all this would go away.

We went home and spent that evening sleeping/sobbing/waiting for a call. The next morning we received a call from the transplant coordinator. She had horrible news. Once they got to UCLA it was determined that his organs were sicker than they had thought. They were unable to transplant them. She assured us that Travis was still a hero and will always be for our choice to donate. Our hearts sank. As if things could get any worse. She mentioned that they would still use his eyes at the eye bank for research and such. His beautiful green/blue sparkly eyes. I remember just being a mess. How could God not at least give us this gift? I GAVE UP a chance to hold my boy wire free for this most precious gift and it didn't even happen. I still have such anger over this. I know that we tried our best.


The last several posts are some of the details of Travis' last days. Living it was painful. Revisiting it is also painful. I guess I just wanted people to see just all my sweet guy went through. How strong he really was an how much our family sacrificed. These memories run through my head often. It is a miracle that grieving parents can even get out of bed, let alone try and function. We are constantly haunted by this....constantly reminded.....constantly in pain.....constantly living half in this world and half with our baby in spirit. It is exhausting.

Missing you more than you will ever know Mr. Man. <3 div="">

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