43: the number of hours my Papa had been on the transplant list, awaiting the call notifying him that a match was found. He had been living with pulmonary fibrosis for years, and his lung function was decreasing daily. The only cure was a double lung transplant.
When we went to see him in the hospital the day before his surgery, I couldn’t help but notice the look in Papa’s eyes. I expected to see fear, but instead, I found hope. Papa was surprisingly calm for someone who was about to enter a life-or-death surgery.
“Are you afraid, Papa?” I questioned him.
With three simple words, he eased all fear that was present in the room: “God’s got this.” Papa’s courage exceeded my own.
As I left the hospital, I wondered if that was the last time I would ever see the man that had been a leading light my whole life. For the next two days, I waited anxiously by the phone for updates. Our entire family held its breath, praying that Papa would take another. My mom stayed at the hospital, offering strength and support for both Papa and Nana.
After his surgery, I received a FaceTime call from my mom. My heart sank at the sight of Papa with multiple tubes down his throat and what seemed like hundreds of wires attached to him. He couldn’t speak and appeared lifeless. Mom assured me that the transplant went well and that my sister and I could visit him the next day.
By the time we visited, the tubes were removed, and Papa was alert. Although the surgery was finished, his journey was just beginning. He and Nana spent the next three months in an apartment near the hospital for appointments and in case of emergencies. My family and I constantly took trips down to play games, eat snacks, and binge-watch Is It Cake? on Netflix.
Papa’s health was showing vast improvements, and his lung function rose from only 24% to 108% after the procedure. I truly couldn't believe the miracle unfolding right before my eyes. When Papa shared his progress, I realized that he had been given a second chance at life. Something that was made possible by his organ donor. We later learned that she passed away in a car accident. Though the doctors weren't allowed to share much more information, I sensed that Papa felt a responsibility to honor her life. Three years later, he still tears up when speaking of her and her family with immense gratitude.
Witnessing the gift of organ donation inspired me to become a registered donor. To me, it was a small choice, but to someone else, it could mean a second chance at life: their next breath or heartbeat. When my life ends, I hope to help save another, just as a donor saved my Papa. I believe in the life-changing power of organ donation.
