In August of 1993 I donated 40% of my liver to a nine-year-old boy who had Cystic Fibrosis. This is part four of that story.
They used staples to hold Ian’s incision together. They stitched mine on the inside and used butterfly strips to hold it on the outside. In addition, I was surprised to find a nine-inch cut on my left thigh where they had removed an artery to help with the transplant. I’m not sure why I didn’t know they were going to do that, but it caused a great deal of discomfort in my calf when I began walking.
My worst experience occurred early on the morning of the third day. I was off the morphine and my guts were thawing and something inside me began to scream. It felt like there was a knife in my guts and someone just kept twisting and twisting. I don’t know if the nerves suddenly woke up somewhere in there, or if the liver realized it had been cut down to size, or it was something else. All I knew was that I was in serious pain. I was thrashing on the bed and moaning and carrying on.
I had really liked my nurses up until then, but the nurse that morning gave me a look that basically said, ‘Cowboy up.? Her recommendation was get up and move around. As I lay there clutching my stomach and then the bed sheets and then the railing and then my head, I thought, ‘Move around? Move around? are you crazy? I’m dying here. Give me drugs!? She must have talked to Kath on the side because Kathleen was also recommending that I get up and go for a walk. They just didn’t get it. Something was wrong inside. Maybe the doctor left a sponge in there or something. Internal bleeding, stitches burst, intestines imploding, exploding, something!
Kathleen persisted. I hated everyone now but I forced myself to get up and push my wheelchair down the corridor. I was gasping in pain, my face grimaced with each step. After about five minutes though, the pain began to subside. After about 10 minutes the pain was pretty much gone. They were right and I was glad the pain was gone but I was still mad. And I was very concerned that the pain might return, but it never did. It had lasted about an hour, it had been severe and unrelenting and I was covered in sweat, but it was over. Fortunately for me, that was the only serious pain that I had to endure during recovery.
On the day that I was supposed to be discharged, someone from the hospital came and asked if we were willing to talk to the media. Apparently they had heard it was the first non-related live liver transplant surgery in the U.S. and there was a television crew there. Some radio stations wanted to talk to us as well. We weren’t prepared for this and we didn’t know what to expect.
Ian met us in the hallway that led to the lobby. At this point he was doing very well. He had recovered quicker than I did and was looking much better. He still had to deal with anti-rejection medicine and his general lack of strength, but his color was good, his vitals were good, and he was smiling again. I on the other hand did not look particularly good. I had probably lost 20 pounds and was looking gaunt. I didn’t feel very good either and walked slightly bent over. Still, there was a buzz that we all felt.
In the lobby there were cameras and lights and cords all over. A major Chicago television station was setup and waiting. We sat in a row of chairs and the woman interviewer asked each person at least one question. There was a lot of nervous energy and a number of times we all had a good laugh at something someone said. But the woman was having fun with us so she didn’t rush anything. She was good at making you feel as though you were just talking to her when she asked her questions. When it was over she told us it was going to air that night at 11 p.m. It was fun but I was glad when it was over. I wanted to go to the Ronald McDonald house and lay down.
That night Kathleen cooked me a scrambled egg. It was the first solid food I had eaten in a week. It was delicious. I also was able to take a shower. The last of the butterfly strips came off and my scars were completely revealed. The Mercedes cut was very red and tender to the touch. Nonetheless, I was feeling better. I watched the movie ‘Encino Man? that night. It hurt to laugh so I just smiled at the good parts.
We gathered together to watch the news that night. It came out pretty good actually (except that I looked like crap? ah vanity). It also gave us a sense that we had made it over a major hurdle. We felt good.
Though Ian was recovering well, he would need to remain in the hospital. There was observation, medication adjustments, and so on that needed to continue.
I spoke ‘live? over the phone on several talk radio stations while I was at the Ronald McDonald house waiting to go home. It was interesting. Someone would call and get you on the phone and ask you to wait, then the host would come on during a break before the live interview and explain what he was going to ask about and how it was going to go, then you’d be back on hold for a few and then you’d hear him say ‘We’re talking to Mike Fallon who just donated?? and then the interview. When it was over he said we’re going to a commercial and then thanked me for a good interview and wished me well. We hung up and it was all good.
I also got a call from some morning show from somewhere. Apparently our story had gone out over the AP and some people were interested. I had to go down to a television station where I was fitted with an earpiece and a microphone. There was an unmanned camera pointed at me and I was instructed to look into it. I don’t even know who the host and hostess were but when they came on they were laughing and very loud. They didn’t pronounce my name right and then asked me a series of stupid questions that didn’t make any sense. ‘Say, you know you’re a pretty special guy ? how does it feel to be so special?? ‘Um, good?? ‘that’s right!? Then they said, ‘So, tell us your story?? But when I started they interrupted me and shouted, ‘He donated his liver! So what does the liver do Ted??, ‘God, I don’t know ? mine is saturated with gin, ha ha ha ha.? They wrapped it up quick after that. They didn’t even thank me. I was just suddenly disconnected. Someone came up and took off the microphone and earpiece and said, ‘I guess that’s it.? I guess it was.
I don’t remember the flight home but I do remember getting off the plane and seeing my kids and my Mom. It was a happy reunion. It was also a long walk to the car. I was still walking bent over a bit and was glad to finally be able to sit down. My Mom kept remarking on how skinny I was. Josh was six, Caleb was five and Christine was three. When we got home they were running around kind of crazy-like and making loud kid noises. It was good to be home.
In the end, I would be awarded a Home Town Hero award by the Governor of the State, I was voted Michiganian of the Year (with 11 others that seemed much more deserving), was on a variety of radio shows, in the newspaper, the Family Circle magazine, and one talk show in California with Leeza Gibbons and John Tesh. I even got a call from the Oprah Winfrey show but I turned it down. I was tired of talking about it by then (probably shouldn’t have turned that one down though). To read about some of these events visit www.lakeorionreview.com and go to the extended online version of this article.
We received a lot of publicity because we were the first non-related live liver transplant in the U.S. But in the end, our reward was measured by Ian’s life and standard of living. It hasn’t been easy for him or his parents. He must take anti-rejection medicine for the rest of his life, he battles with infections and viruses that can kill him, and there are a number of things he simply cannot participate in.
Nonetheless, in 2003 he graduated from Oakland Christian High School with honors. While attending Eastern Michigan University for the last four years he has continuously worked and was a member of an improv group that performed on weekends. He is gifted in music and has created a CD called ‘Sad songs for an Optimist.? And in December 2007, upon completion of his student teaching requirement, he will graduate from EMUand become a teacher.
There was a time we weren’t sure if Ian would even survive let alone thrive. But no one knows the future. Sometimes a sure thing isn’t, and sometimes the smallest chance is all it takes. We have been fortunate that Ian has done well and that the hope for his future continues. It is the reward that we were all hoping for.