The power of voice

The huge mask he had to wear whenever he went out the first 6 months after the transplant

I’m remembering the day after Randy’s transplant. I left the hospital around 3 in the morning - there was no place in the hospital for me to stay so I went home to sleep, asking if they could not bring him out of sedation until I could get back there in the morning. Instead, a phone call woke me at 9 (forgot to set an alarm) and it was a doctor asking me to speak to Randy. I had no idea what was going on , but I think the doctor told me Randy was upset. Apparently he came out of the anestethetic while he still had the ventilator tube in his mouth and panicked.. So the doctors called me and asked me to talk to him. I was confused, and the first thing I said was, I don’t know what to say. But then I got hold of myself and said soothing things and he calmed down right away.

I wish I had remembered that in the last week that he was non-responsive in a hospital bed. My voice could have given him strength, kept him calm, let him know I was there, but I didn’t think to speak - which is so odd because I am all about words. I wish I had said more - even nonsense would have been better than the shocked silence that surrounded him.

I’m so sorry I didn’t know more. But I have to remind myself that I did the best I could.