Hi, I am Richa, a Software developer based in Bengaluru. My father had been advised to go for a liver transplant at the earliest. Both of us were admitted to the hospital for surgery scheduled the next day. This was a couple of months after trying to put things in line for his liver transplant.
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This was probably the lowest point in my life, as my dad was fighting against the chronic liver cirrhosis for a couple of years and he was barely surviving. This transplant was his last chance at life and I was happy to be a donor.
We had put in all our savings for the treatment, and put in all our hopes in this surgery.
My mother was the only attendant in the hospital since both dad and I had been admitted. She was all on her own, and there was no one from our extended family to support her. as we were far away from our home town.
My dad was acting strong and asked both of us not to worry. Yet I could sense his fears that he might not be able to survive the surgery as his body was too weak. We were not able to sleep well that night, as all of us were scared that this might be the last time we were spending together. But none of us was talking about it.
Being the donor, I was sent in the OT first. And my father was admitted few hours later.
When my mother came to see me in the ICU after I gained consciousness, the doctors were still operating on dad. We did not know what was ahead for us.
Around midnight, they informed us that his surgery was successful. My dad was shifted to another ICU for recovery. But he remained unconscious for the next two days.
It was a bad time for the three of us, as I was numb, lying in ICU not able to feel any part of my body. My dad was unconscious in another ICU, and my mom was all by herself praying for both of us. And all of us were helpless in our own ways unable to help each other.
I was moved out of the ICU on the third day, but I was not able to actively take the physiotherapy as I wasn’t able to sit, eat or breathe. My mother stayed up every night and constantly reassured me that everything was okay. She had to pick me up and support me in sitting, walking and taking a bath. My pain was unbearable, and I could sleep only when I had enough pain killers, and that was the only time my mother would also take a nap.
I had not met my dad since the surgery. But I heard the good news from the doctors, nurses and my mom that he was recovering fast. Soon he was eating again, walking, watching TV, talking to everyone in the ICU but I was feeling just the opposite. Feeling extremely weak, I wasn’t ready to even try and see if I could walk on my own.
My mother began worrying more and more about my health. No motivation was working out and I was not recovering quickly as they had expected.
After a few days, there was a knock on my door. The nurses opened the door, and I saw my dad seated on a wheelchair. The nurse smiled and said “Look who has come to visit you”
I dropped the guards on the side of my bed, twisted towards my left and managed to put my feet on the ground. For the first time in a while, I was standing on my own. I managed to somehow walk with all the paraphernalia attached to my body and walked up to my dad.
I touched his hands and I felt so happy that I couldn’t control my tears. I was holding one hand on my stitches and using another to wipe my tears. He was right there, my mom standing next to me, my heart was so overwhelmed at that moment, and I couldn’t stop. When I looked around, I found everyone was in tears (nurses too).
To see my father healthy once again brought the sparkle in my eyes once again.
Seeing my father happy always makes me happy. From there on, I recovered slowly, one step at a time. I joined my office after a month, and it actually helped me shift focus and take my mind off the pain.
My dad also recovered completely and joined his office after 3 months.
Father-daughter bonds are special. Now my father and I share an even stronger bond, as he says, “I can feel your liver inside my body every day”.
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