A poke near the prick.

 
The Pulmonologist and his team were able to get me scheduled today to have a cardiac catheter procedure which was super awesome because it was the last step (hopefully) in getting listed. If it wasn't today, it might have been weeks before they could have gotten me in or there was a cancelation.

So I arrived at two 0'clock and was briefed with everything that could go wrong and signed consent. I had the option of left or right groin or possibly the neck. The plan was to put an IV in me and run a thin tube up the artery to the right chamber of my heart at which point they'd blow up a small balloon and test for oxygen levels. Sounds easy enough, hell, isn't there an APP for that? Doc didn't like doing the neck because apparently there is a higher risk for bleeding. I get called into the back fairly quickly; change into my Johnnie, wrong, back to rechange. Didn’t realize one could commit a Johnny Faux Pas. I imagined all the nurses and techies laughing at my expense as I sashayed though the room. I'm probably the only person that could put a Johnny on incorrectly.

I was led to a gurney, got an IV, some more talking to and wheeled into the procedure room where there are about 6 or 8 people in scrubs milling about waiting to help pretending to prep equipment.

Of course why allow me to leave with any shred of dignity so they decide to go into the right groin with the wiring. They begin to unwrap all the sterilized tools of their trade and special sheets and coverings and what not and then everyone gathers around for the ritual "unveiling". And by unveiling me mean exposing of the penis, the unit, the baby maker, the gristle missile... and let the shaving begin. Of course the left side has to be cleaned up too, just in case things don't work out on the right. Admittedly it was an odd sensation having a young man perform the task of shaving me below the belt but all in the name of getting a new liver.

Sedative of some sort went into the IV and the rest was a bit blurry, nothing like the experience the previous week with the 8" needle. It all went quickly and without a hitch. Apparently Doctor C had had the skill of a journeyman electrician in running that wire though my body up to my heart. Hardly felt a thing and was told afterward that I mindlessly sang Brittney Spears tunes. They patched me up, covered me up and sent me into recovery.

After my wife arrive Doctor C came out and told us I didn't have Pulmonary Hypertension and that he'd be letting the board know ASAP and if everything went right I could get listed for a new liver on Wednesday. Relief. I called Ellen, my transplant coordinator, asked her to put my paperwork in front of the board on Wednesday then had the best sleep I had for months.