My Transplant--Part 2

I was diagnosed in July of 1982 and my doctors told my parents that *if* I lived long enough, I *might* be able to receive this operation that was still in its infancy stages that could repair or even replace my damaged heart and lungs. An operation called a heart lung transplant. It was during that time that I was taken off of oxygen because it wasn't helping me (note: my mom remembers me fighting when they were trying to take the o2 off because in my toddler mind, being on oxygen all the time was normal).  

18-months-old and still on oxygen

By the time I was 3 years old, my health was stable enough when my folks started thinking about giving me a brother or sister and by the end of 1983, Mel was a month old and I was a very protective big sister (note: she was the only one who was full term weighing a whopping 9 lbs, 2 oz).

In 1984, I started the year in Boston but ended it in Temple Terrace. Since the winters were so harsh for me, the folks decided to move us all to Florida, thinking the warmer weather would help slow down the deterioration of my health. It did.

Mel and I posing in front of our new house!

Last week of Kindergarten!

Six months after moving to Florida, we moved to a small town called Lutz (rhymes with "fruits") that's within Tampa's city limits. Because of the timing of our move, I was able to have a fairly normal childhood. I went to school, grew up in a great neighborhood with many kids my age, was active in the Girl Scouts, learned how to beat Super Mario Bros in our Nintendo, made the Honor Roll, tormented Melissa, gained another sister and tormented her, etc.

My 8th birthday party.  If the ceiling fan had been turned on, it would've been pandemonium.

First Communion!

About to march in the Gasparilla Parade!

Also, in elementary school, I was constantly teased and bullied over (among other things) my right thumb and the way it looked. I didn't know it then now I understand what was wrong: I was born with something called Poland's Syndrome. In layman's terms, on the 46th day in the womb, the blood flow was cut off between my mother and me (and, more specifically, to my pectoral muscles) and that is why I was born without a knuckle on my right hand thumb, without a couple of ribs in my right side, born with scoliosis (curved spine, one of the main reasons other transplant facilities didn't want to touch me), and why my chest is uneven (which lead to me being sexually harassed in the 5th grade at Maniscalco).

left hand with two knuckles on my thumb

right hand with one knuckle on my thumb

With all that being said, I'm so grateful to my many school and neighborhood friends for giving me a great childhood and not treating me differently just because I had purple lips and couldn't run that fast. I'll never forget it.

My 8th birthday party.  I'm in the middle wearing the green dress and sweater and I'm still friends with Joe, Carrie, Jennifer and Dominica.

My Transplant--Part 1

I just realized I never gave my own story.....in what led me to needing my transplant soooo.......here it is!

I was born at 29w, 2d gestation. It wasn't my fault or my parents faults, stuff just happens. I weighed a tiny 2 lbs, 3 oz but I lost that weight and it took me FOREVER to put it back on.

Itty bitty Kimmy

So tiny

Because of my early arrival, I was born with a multitude of health problems; primarily in my heart and lungs region. Here's the catch: while it was obvious that my lungs were very underdeveloped, it didn't even occur to my doctors that there *might* be something wrong with my heart (remember: it was, literally, late 70s/early 80s thinking when I was born).

I was in the hospital for almost eight months (1/3/80-8/27/80) and would've stayed in there longer if it hadn't been for my mom (she asked the doctor point blank: "what do you have here that we can't bring back with us?" Like any new parent, she wanted her baby home).

As you might imagine, because of my premature birth, I learned how to do many things late; walk, talk, etc.  It's not that I was an idiot, I truly was developmentally delayed. The average five month old baby is held, played with, spoken to, etc but my folks never did that with me and it's not that they didn't want to--they couldn't! I was too busy fighting for my own damn life!

In August of 1980, I was FINALLY released from the hospital but on oxygen 24/7 and needing constant care. As you might imagine, your average almost eight month old was hitting all of the regular baby milestones while I was still at the starting gate. When I was two and a half years old, I was walking, starting to talk, and being a very observant toddler but....I was also still on oxygen around the clock.

Beach baby and on oxygen

My doctors were surprised that my stats/oxygen percentage weren't wasn't as high as expected (considering how much o2 I was on) so I had my first cardiac catherization and that's when it was discovered I had numerous holes in my heart. Holes that were inoperable. I was diagnosed with Eisenmenger's Syndrome. In layman's terms, every time my heart would beat, the oxygenated blood and deoxygenated blood would intertwine, flow and wind up in my already crappy lungs.

She's baaaaack.....

Hi Everyone!

I'm BACK!!  I apologize for taking such a long break!  As you can see, I'm not dead (yay!!).

I've got A LOT of ideas cooking in my mind; not just for this blog but for other things as well, but I can't talk about them.

Thank you ever so much for sticking with me!!