A Roller Coaster Ride to a Fresh Start: A Memoir

By Frank Broeders

It's September 25, 2017. Monday. This date has been on my mind's calendar for over four years. Today is transplant day! Later today I will receive a donated kidney from my youngest sister, Sandy. Surgery is scheduled for 1:00 p.m. It has been a long, arduous road. Type 1 diabetes was diagnosed at age fourteen, some fifty years ago. Along the way, two heart attacks, open-heart triple-bypass surgery, a cancer surgery, and kidney dialysis brought me here. My story details navigating the peaks and valleys of dealing with multiple health challenges, while through it all life carries on. A successful refereeing career in junior hockey, a life-enhancing ten-year stint with the Vancouver Police Department Reserve Unit, and a very rewarding two-year work experience in Toronto are interwoven. You will meet some of the many doctors, nurses, and other health professionals who play key roles on the journey. You will also meet Debbie, my life partner and leader of my cheering section. And of course, Sandy, whose gift of life reaches the peak. We all live unexpected lives to some degree. How do we make the best of it? It's a journey of faith, hope and perseverance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: May 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9780228856931

Frank Broeders

Frank Broeders is a retired bank investigator/auditor. He enjoys spending time with Debbie and holidaying in Hawaii. He loves to watch good shows on television, especially dramas with federal agents searching for bad guys. In addition, almost all sports catch his attention. He has what his friends would call an obsession with the color orange—half his wardrobe consists of clothing with a splash of orange. Color reminds him of Holland, where during World Cup soccer, the fountains in the city squares flow orange. He currently lives in Vancouver, B.C. Canada.

Book preview

ebk_cvr.jpg

A Roller Coaster Ride to a Fresh Start

Copyright © 2021 by Frank Broeders

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Tellwell Talent

www.tellwell.ca

ISBN

978-0-2288-5692-4 (Hardcover)

978-0-2288-5691-7 (Paperback)

978-0-2288-5693-1 (eBook)

To everyone living with the daily challenges of chronic health conditions and life’s other hurdles, and to those looking after them.

To Sandy and Debbie

"Life doesn’t unfold as we plan.

We all live unexpected lives in one way or another. But sooner or later, we have to decide how we are going to make the most of the unexpected life."

—I Heard God Laugh by Matthew Kelly

Contents

Chapter 1 Transplant Day

Chapter 2 Beginnings

Chapter 3 Diagnosis: Diabetes

Chapter 4 Life Carries On

Chapter 5 Heart Episode One

Chapter 6 Heart Episode Two

Chapter 7 The Kidney Episodes

Chapter 8 Heart Episode Three

Chapter 9 Dialysis

Chapter 10 Post Transplant: The Road To Recovery

Chapter 11 Final Thoughts

Acknowledgements

About the Author

1

Transplant Day

It’s Monday, September 25, 2017. A day like this has been on my mind’s calendar for almost five years now. Since I hadn’t slept much it wasn’t necessary, but the alarm went off anyway at five a.m. I felt a bit nervous, and maybe surprisingly not fearful but confident. Debbie, my partner of almost 20 years, woke up with me as we had to be at the hospital around seven. It had been a particularly warm few days, and today was no exception. The sun was up, and a warm breeze rustled through the trees, which Debbie pointed out. I find I’m not always in-tune with the sounds of nature, although I wish I was. Besides I had other matters on my mind.

We got dressed, and packed a few things. Debbie, her word search book in hand, and cell phone with the numbers of friends and family she was going to call. I grabbed my toiletries and a few other things. Since I lived only a short distance from the hospital, my usual form of transportation was walking, but I recall taking a cab on this morning. Because I wasn’t able to eat anything, I had to conserve my energy to prevent my blood sugar from dropping too low.

When we arrived at the hospital, we ran into Dave, my youngest sister Sandy’s husband, so I was assured that Sandy, my living kidney donor on this momentous day, hadn’t escaped, and was in fact in the hospital already going through her pre-op workup. It was a very busy Monday morning and there was a lineup at the registration desk, so I let them know I was there and waited to be called. In short order my name was called, and the registration process was complete. I asked for my blood sugar to be tested, as I felt a bit off. Sugars fine, so possibly some anxiety. Debbie and I talked a fair bit about our expectations for the day, hoping of course, for a good outcome and a fast recovery. At the same time, we thought of Sandy and what she was going through, hoping she was doing well.

Soon I was asked to change into a hospital gown, one of those unflattering gowns with more openings than one could possibly manage to keep closed. I was advised that Sandy was now in the OR. Her surgery would take a few hours. I was told once her surgery was completed, she would head to recovery while they thoroughly cleaned the room and prepared it for me. Sandy’s surgeon was different from the surgeon who was going to operate on me.

By now, I was busy getting prepped, including giving answers to numerous questions that I had answered many times already—how do I spell my name, birthdate, medications, family doctor’s name, and so forth. I guess you can never verify these important details enough, and it was reassuring to know that they took such care. Also, verification of ID, various vital sign checks, answers to any questions that Debbie had, and eventually being assigned to a bed in the pre-op area with Debbie still by my side. Hard to express how grateful I was and still am to have her close. Nurses came to insert intravenous lines and conduct final checks. The surgical resident came by to answer any questions and lend assurances, and then my surgeon, Dr. Mayson, was bedside.

I had last seen him in the office about two years prior when the transplant was first approved, but I hadn’t seen him since. Despite that, he did send me for various tests and scans to confirm that I was still a viable candidate and good to go. He assured me he was up to date on the condition of my heart and would do his best to get the surgery done in the quickest time, so as to place as little strain on my heart as possible. He chatted with Debbie giving her a timeline, getting her contact information, and assuring her he would talk to her when the surgery was completed. I had total confidence in Dr. Mayson and his entire team. I seem to recall that just before he left, he used a black marker to place the letter L on my left foot, and on my left abdomen—all precautions to avoid mistakes, and a reminder of which side to cut into.

As one p.m. approached, I felt a real sense of excitement, and unlike the run-up to the first go at it, I did not feel scared. I may have been a bit anxious, but it was likely masked by the excitement. It’s time to be wheeled into the operating room (OR). Debbie walked alongside the stretcher until we reached the big metal doors that flung open at the push of a button on the wall. A good luck and I love you kiss, and through the doors I went followed by a couple of turns down various hallways and into the operating room. There were many people all in masks and hospital gowns who were carrying out their specific functions. I was lifted onto the operating table with many words of encouragement and more questions about who I was, and why I was there, pleased with myself that I had all the right answers. Everyone involved told me what they were going to do prior to doing it so I was always aware of what was to come. The anesthesiologist who had also talked to me in pre-op was giving instructions. One of the nurses commented how grateful I should be to my sister for this greatest of gifts, and she suggested I buy her a kidney-shaped diamond to which the surgical resident responded, not to go overboard, it was, after all, a used kidney! I recall smiling at that moment of levity, heard a few more encouraging words, and was asked to count backwards from ten. Don’t know how far I got. I seem to recall seven.

Apparently, a lot happened between counting backwards to seven, and waking up. At least that’s what they told me. Nurses and doctors assured me that when the surgery was over, they had placed a number of lines, tubes and drains in various places on my body, most notably a line coming out of my neck. I was adamant that did not happen to me. Maybe every other kidney transplant recipient, but no, not me. I eventually realized after persuasion that coming out of surgery, and during the post anaesthesia recovery (PAR), one is still very much out of it. I finally came to conclude how would I know what was sticking out of me after surgery, and I gave up arguing.

What I do remember is when I finally did wake up, I felt pretty darn good. I was wheeled from the PAR to a step-down unit for further recovery and monitoring before being taken to the ward. As I was wheeled to the step-down, I passed Sandy recovering on her stretcher and we gave each other the thumbs up, knowing I would see her again on the ward.

The step-down unit is where I saw Debbie for the first time since being wheeled into the OR. It was about six p.m. She was with my other sister Pat, and Sandy’s husband, Dave. As soon