New Job!

One of my big worries about my recovery process from surgery is that I was losing my job at the same time. I worried that I'd languish is a sort of post-recovery doldrum for too long, and my job hunt would be derailed. I was doing a lot of work up until about mid-December, and then... holidays, pre-op,... I just didn't have a lot of time. Mercifully, my old job asked me to let them know if/when I might be able to help out with some contract work, and that spurred me along after the recovery. This was good, because it basically masked the effects on my resume of taking a month off for surgery, and gave me some practice at working, which helped me gauge my recovery better than watching TV and playing solitaire.

I had applied for a job at Tableau in December, and was called in before the holiday. I was really excited about the role- my old manager recommended me for the job, because he works on the team. With another former editor of mine. And they are both very happy with the work, the vibe, the boss, etc... And Tableau just does very cool stuff (data visualization- or making pretty graphs). I was tickled when the hiring manager told me during my interview that while he wasn't sure how the team would decide to hire for this role, he thoughts I was a good fit, and that the team was growing. So if not this opening, than soon. He'd be in touch. I thought I must be as shoe in, but I was only slightly disappointed when I learned, on the way home from the hospital, that I didn't get the job.

Imagine my happy surprise when I received a call from that very recruiter at the end of January asking if I would be willing to talk about a different role on the same team. Oh sure! I was concerned because of the three roles on the team (Instructional Designer, Technical Writer, and eLearning Specialist), the third I felt least qualified for, and of course, that is what they wanted to talk about. Would I ruin my chances of getting a job on this team if I blew this interview? I let my old coworker/officemate convince me I have a lot of eLearning experience, and I went in with an open mind.

In this interview, I reinterviewed with two people I had already met, and clearly, the tables had turned. They asked as couple probing questions, but were much more concerned with my interest, and selling me on the fit. The hiring manager made it sound like this was a sure thing, and the he very much hoped I didn't take something else in the meantime. After the interview, I went to lunch with my old manager, who is a tech writer on this team. He reiterated that they were really hoping to find a place for me, and I asked him why they would bring me into the role I am least qualified for. He gave me confidence that the team would be patient while I learned what there is to know, and that everyone really was a kind, and enthusiastic as they appeared in the interview.

Great, now I WANT this job, I'm excited about this job, and I still don't have a lot of confidence that I can get this job. I was on pins and needles all weekend, wondering when I might hear... something? Anything?

Monday afternoon, I got an email to set up a call with the recruiter. Matt confirmed that she would only want to talk to me if there were good news to discuss- not bad news to deliver. Indeed there was an offer. I took some time to think about it because there were terms I couldn't quickly parse over the phone, and factors that the recruiter couldn't weigh in on. I contacted my future boss to ask him about flex-scheduling- oh sure, he really wants to make that work. I signed the offer, and agreed to start on March 2.

That leaves me plenty of time to continue healing and get in shape, finish my current contract, visit Gramma W and Noel's family, and maybe even get my own house in order a bit. I guess my worry about falling off into a jobless abyss was unfounded- or if not unfounded, at least surmountable. I'll share more about what I actually do, once I figure that out.

In other news, I've been jogging a bit, hiking some, and am officially cleared to slowly bring back any other form of activity I like. Recovery is going well. We've started some major effort to rearrange furniture at our house, which may take some time to settle. Matt's stepmom sent me her old hockey skates, so we are looking forward to giving that a (slow, stuttering, awkward) attempt this weekend.

I had my kidney out- Hospital Edition

It's been three weeks since our big transplant surgery. In the lead up to that, Matt, Kelsey, GW, Nana, Shaoshu and I had one of the best Christmases on record. Everyone was very mellow, we ate a lot of egg dishes and candy, got to sit around the fire, sleep, laugh and enjoy eachother's company. I think everyone was trying not to be nervous about their respective roles, and it was just really nice to reconnect a little before the surgery. I had plenty of time to get in my final work outs (no missed days in December!). A couple days before surgery, Kelsey and GW and GW's parents moved into an apartment closer to the hospital. This was obviously a good choice long term, but my house felt really empty without them.

The day before surgery, I was on a liquid diet, so Matt and I had a quiet day at home. During the day, I felt quite brave, and was getting intermittent check ins from all corners. Thanks to everyone who called and texted. But as the day started to fade, and I tried to pack a bag, and think about sleeping before my 4am wake up call... well, sleep didn't come easily. Packing a bag was hard. Will I be able to wear clothes? (Answer, nah, a hospital gown is fine, but my baggiest PJs helped me get home). What will I need to sleep? (eye mask and ear plugs) Books? TV? What will I feel like watching and doing? What will Matt need to keep him busy while I am healing? Will he spend the night? In the end, we each packed basically an overnight bag, which seemed disconcertingly light. Weeks before I had assured Matt that if everything went as planned, he could go home to sleep at night, but the day before hand, I just wasn't so confident that I would feel brave in an empty hospital room at night. He readily agreed to come prepared to stay for a while.

As the evening wore on, Matt went to fix something in the garage (read: he was anxious), and GW sent me a great short video of Niel DeGrasse Tyson, which reminded me I should watch Cosmos. I've been reading Death by Blackhole, which has the right amount of funny and technical for reading until I am quite sleepy, and Cosmos has a similar tone of optimistic wonderment that helped take my mind off of what was coming.

I should probably mention here that I assumed I would be pretty much obliterated by this surgery. I was hoping I would be too drugged to remember how much pain I was in, and I was very afraid that I would be making a slow crawl back to self sufficiency. I was told recovery takes 2-6 weeks, which I was taking to mean I might be able to walk, feed myself, and possibly sit at a computer for a few hours after a month. All this kinda made me think that the start point was going to be pretty bad. I was resigned to all of this, I figured it was a trade for a fraction of the suffering GW had to deal with, I would just get it in one big dose. I had just made up my mind to go through with it, even when I wasn't feeling especially brave, like at midnight the night before surgery.

Somehow we slept, albeit briefly, because check-in was at 5:30am. No traffic at that time. I decided to look forward to seeing Kelsey and GW and his parents, and try not to think about... you know... We got settled into a room on the transplant floor, that was a couple doors down from GW. I got hugs from everyone, which was so good. You know how frail you feel after eating nothing but juice for 24 hours? Yeah, not like a brave person, so the hugs really helped. And the hospital room was just too bright, too foreign, not to get a little antsy. When they came to put my IV, the nurse asked if I wanted lidocaine to numb the spot. I started to say no, and then thought 'I'm having a hard enough time holding it together, why not just let this lady be nice to me?' I decided right then I would take anything I was offered that seemed like it would help, even if it might make me seem super wimpy. I didn't want to be tearing up over an IV, or anything else. It's courageous enough just to be the donor, without trying to be a tough guy the whole time too.

I poked my head in to GW's room, where he was cacooned under heated blankets, also trying not to be nervous. The were supposed to take me down an hour before him, so we said our goodbyes, and I waited in my bed for someone to wheel me away. Both Matt and I were feeling at little giddy with anxiety by this point. Being there, I really knew I was here to Do Some Good, everyone was being terrifically kind, but... OMG, they were about to cut my guts out! I was wheeled into the pre-op room, which was full of nervous middle age people in gowns, some of them shuffling into the restroom, most of them lying in their own hospital beds with a loved one looking on. Matt and I were trying to feel youthful and brave, when another bed rolled in- for whatever crazy reason, they brought GW down an hour early. I know that must have been torture for him, but I was SO happy to see him. He got parked next to me, so I got extra hugs from Kelsey, and we could keep joking and chatting up to the last minute. He made my nurse bring me a Bair Hug- the inflating, warm air circulating, blanket. The nurse told him that he could wear his beanie, which made us realize we should have got Renal Riot hats for the big day. My anesthesiologist stopped by to chat, and was just amazed to see us carrying on like this right before surgery. All the nursing staff and surgeons were loving it. This is where we took the high five picture that got a couple hundred FB likes (not to mention instagram). The nurse offered to set our families up in a family waiting room, where they could get updates from surgery. It felt like we were getting VIP treatment.

And then they wheeled me in. I got one last hug and kiss from Matt and Kels, and a high five from GW. With no one holding my hand or encouraging me, I suddenly felt very alone, very tiny, and not especially brave. I think the hallways to the OR might be one of the longest hallways in all of Seattle. I was told that when we got in the room, the anesthesiologist would give me something to "calm down" prior to starting surgery, so I figured I just had to get in there, and things would take their course. The OR nurse introduced herself on the way (really, we had that much time rolling down this hallway), and she told me to expect some of the other people in the room (I have no idea who now, but I was glad she mentioned that). The asked me to move myself onto the operating table. By now I almost forgot that I was still able bodied for a few minutes, and happily did the sideways scoot. They hooked up my IV, told me they were going to do some... other stuff, who knows... and I had a last minute sense of calm...

...The next thing I remember, was the recover room. A nurse had come to chat with me, and I was amazed that my mouth seemed to be able to make words. This is probably because my nearest experience with surgery was having my wisdom teeth out, when my mouth was packed with cotton. I remember thinking I felt more lucid than I expected, and wasn't in pain yet, although I don't remember having my eyes open. Someone a few beds down was crying for their mother, and the nurse told me not to worry, that person was confused. to which I said, "I understand that. I'm feeling pretty confused myself..." But I knew, I knew, my mom was nearby and was going to give me a hug really soon.

In my memory, I was magically transported to my hospital room, where people (I assume Matt, and Kelsey and my parents where there) told me I was looking pretty good. I remember thinking I felt pretty good considering. I was allowed to eat ice chips which seemed nice, I felt thirsty and my throat was a bit sore. The nurse wanted to look at my incisions. I was a little afraid to see, but there was a big pressure bandage over my hips, so the big cut was a mystery for now. The little cuts had bloody gauze under clear plastic sticker things. I would later learn that under that were steristrips, basically the sticker versions of stitches. Overall, it looked worse than I hoped, but much better than expected. I got a button to administer my own pain meds, and like I said, I had determined I didn't really need to tough out feeling discomfort. Everyone else already had heard the good news, but at some point I was told (and remembered) that GW's new kidney was working. And working really well. Hooray!

A weird thing that the night shift nurse explained to me was that some of these drugs don't necessarily make a person sleepy. By the evening, I had been up and chatting with visitors most of the day. Matt has asked for a cot to be brought in to sleep next to me. I had barely slept the night before, and I just... didn't feel sleepy. My throat was hurting more now, from the intubation, and my (wonderful) nurse brought me nasal spray for my itchy nose, and lidocaine lozenges for my throat. I sat up and watched Star Trek: Next Generation and Kung Fu Panda cartoons with a few cat naps for most of the night. When the nurse would come in and wake Matt up (I was usually awake), he would hold my hand across the gap in the beds. I tell you, there is something really comforting and encouraging about having someone hold your hand while we are in a hospital bed.

Later that night, GW called me from down the hall. He wanted to know I was doing ok. His first question on waking up was about me, but he wanted to check on me himself. And then he told me he was doing really well. The kidney was working so well, he was dropping 30mL of fluid a minute for most of the day. And he said he felt pretty good. And I gotta tell you- that was the moment that I felt like it was worth it.

The next couple days were punctuated by a number of firsts. The drugs I was on made it terribly hard for me to focus on anything, so time seemed to move shockingly slowly. By the night of surgery I stood beside my bed for the first time. The next day I was allowed to eat Jello, my first food since Saturday. I took a few steps out of bed. The surgeons came to check on me, and told me I could eat my first solid food that afternoon. I took my first pain pills by mouth. Shaoshu came to visit, Kelsey went home to sleep. I walked down the hall to see GW. He came down the hall to see me. I went to the bathroom myself. I got to use body wipes to "bathe." A resident came by to take off the big bandages, revealing a few bloody steristrips hiding tiny cuts. I learned how to cough with a pillow pressed on my stomach. I put on underwear. I started walking laps of the hallway, gingerly holding my stomach in place.

The day after surgery, the surgeons, giddy from seeing GW's success, popped into to brag about my kidney and told me I could probably go home the next day. This sounded crazy to me, but the next day, we had found a painkiller that I could tolerate, I was walking short distances confidently and could eat food. Although it seemed comfortable to have a nurse prepared to answer at the push of a button, I knew both Matt and I would sleep better at home, so we left the hospital around 2:30 that afternoon. A pre-med volunteer wheeled me down to the car. I was wearing my biggest PJs, had a pillow between my stomach at the seat belt, and we timed our exit to shortly after my dose of painkiller.

I'll give more updates on the rest of recovery later soon, but for now, I'm back to job hunting and working, and about to head over to Nana's for tea.

Kidneys etc

I'm pretty sure everyone here knows about this, but I wanted to note in the family timeline that I'm planning to donate a kidney. I've been planning to do this for a long time now, but I wrote about it here, in case you haven't seen that yet.

Perhaps Kels or even a guest blogger will be interested in sharing more about what that looks like to Team GW. Perhaps they will be interested in writing for my hypothetical book of short stories about kidney donation. If finding a job takes too long, that's going to be what I work on to keep myself busy. More on that later.

Things are good here- we are planning a camping trip to the Olympics for Thanksgiving, and STILL get to eat stuffing with the family this Sunday. Work is winding down, but I feel like this is a nice time of year for some free time.