John - Liver Recipient QLD

Last year I watched my Dad begin the harrowing journey to be placed on the liver transplant list. He went through all kinds of scans and tests to ensure he was in top health everywhere else – skin checks, dental checks, heart and stress checks. He passed those with flying colours. 

 He cut out all sugar. He cut out all alcohol. He cut out all salt. Then when his levels were too low, he re-introduced some salt. He began blood-letting, hoping to counteract the excessive iron in his blood until he became too weak to have any more blood withdrawn.  

We watched as he slowly faded away physically; not being able to mow the lawn, do the shopping, play darts, and mentally; crosswords became a struggle, he’d lose his words and reading books became tricky.  

We watched as he slowly died.  

We watched as he suffered infections, as the toxins built up in his blood because his liver could not dispel them causing hepatic encephalopathy, affecting his brain function. All I could do was watch. I watched my incredibly witty, smart, jovial Dad fade away.  

I would ask him questions; what year is it? Who is our prime minister? How old are you? Always watching for signs that the encephalopathy was back and that we needed to get him to hospital.  

I watched my Mum deliberate as to whether an ambulance needed to be called. I watched her care for him. I watched her suffer too.  

I remember the phone call on my birthday telling me that Dad was back in hospital, and I remember thinking that this was it.  

Dad was on a lot of medication to keep his body going, to keep the blood clot under control, to fight off infections, but now he was coughing up blood as well. This felt like the end … it would have been the end.  

And then we got the call.  

They had a liver for Dad.  

We couldn’t get our hopes up yet, but this was his only chance. After hours of operating, removing a practically disintegrated liver and blood clot on one of the ducts, Dad had his new liver, he was doing well and he was in ICU.  

The many days that followed were as much of an emotional rollercoaster as it was before his transplant, but he got through every one of those days and grew stronger and stronger with my Mum by his side.  

My mum.  

A true unsung hero if ever there was one. By his side every day, for every mood, every illness, every worry, every fear, without a complaint. 

Now, today, less than five months later, I watch my Dad chasing my kids around my house to see who would win tag. If it weren’t for the amazingly generous donor family, I wouldn’t be seeing him today at all