post transplant

it really is true that during a crisis the filtering in your brain seems to focus only on certain things. during my initial meetings to get me on the transplant list, my mind was more worried about whether i had enough underwear with me in california while i waited for a donor. no thinking about whether i was gonna survive, not what the recovery was gonna be like, not the financial hardships i'm gonna endure for the rest of my life, not the really important things that i should have listed to ask the transplant social worker and doctors. nope, all i could think about was that i was gonna have to have my grandparents send me clothes (since my mom was with me...and just as shell-shocked) and how they were gonna have to go through my panty drawer. now, it's not as if i had anything really racy or anything...but i'm sure 80+ year olds aren't that used to to thongs and such not too mention the colors that are available in this day and age. the social worker and the docs are discussing all the important stuff i need to know about transplantation and all i hear is blah blah blah.

because of the newest dissection that prompted the rush to get on the transplant list, i was suppose to not stress about anything. i was a ticking time bomb unitl i got a new heart. it was a miracle that the latest dissection hadn't cause another heart attack or immediate death. and here i was stressing about panties. i didn't know why i was stressing about something so STUPID. but my mind was stuck on it. deep down inside me i had all the confidence in the world with my transplant team and dissection doctor. they weren't flippin' out on the operation so i wasn't gonna either...except i was flipping out on the whole underwear issue.

so, to stop all the stress i was putting on myself and possible future embarrassment when i next saw my grandparents...i decided to save money and go "commando." :-D just kiddin'. i do believe in keeping things simple and stress free now and in the end i said c'est la vie and had them pack some stuff up (including panties) and send them to me. i'm sure my grandmother, whom i hope was the one to actually pack my stuff (go to your happy place, jen), wasn't too shock on my under garments. i mean...she didn't die from shock and is still alive. by the time i came home and saw them...the pain i was enduring put things in perspective on this panty issue. bfd.

i'm pretty sure i caught a glimpse of a thong on my grandmother recently when she wore her white dress pants to dinner one evening. ;-) but i'm NOT gonna bring it up....going to my happy place now.