New Lease on Life: My Journey to a Transplant

New Lease on Life: My Journey to a Transplant +++++++++++++++ Hello, my name is Korisa (Kori to many of you), and I’ve always believed in living life to its fullest. I’m a dedicated parent (to my daughter Avery and my siblings Kelly and Scott since our parents passed away when we we young), loyal friend, and a passionate advocate for community service, and mental health and wellness. +++++++++++++++++ For the last 25 years I have studied, lived and worked mostly in New York, and most recently Texas! Life was good and just like any other year, I dropped my daughter off with her father in New Jersey for the summer. The last night ended at a Greek/restaurant/club with belly dancing, paella and Mexican martinis, and a ride home in a top down convertible as I was flying home alone in first class the next morning. +++++++++++++++++ I was stopped dead (almost literally) on my return trip to Austin, Texas the next day. Upon exiting the plane, I was suddenly and severely out of breath. I was terrified I was going to pass out, and in hindsight should have sought medical attention. I had to stop at several gates, including the $20 massage chair at baggage claim for rest before waving down a trolley to take me to the taxi stand. When I got home, I practically collapsed on the couch and called my PCP who could see me that afternoon. She diagnosed me with allergies. and prescribed a steroid. I felt strongly that was not the answer and asked for a set of labs to which she said that was not normal protocol, but that she would order them. The next morning she called me at 7 AM and told me to urgently go to the nearest emergency room to get a blood transfusion as my hemoglobin was critically low; under 7.0. I would go on to be admitted to that hospital to undergo every invasive diagnostic procedure to determine the source of the anemia. After several days, it was determined that I had liver disease, cirrhosis and esophageal varices. Let’s call a spade a spade. I was a wino for half my life and alcoholism ran pretty heavily in my blood. Hearing those diagnoses gave me pause, and I knew I could continue this trend in my own bloodline or stop it right now. I chose me. I chose now. +++++++++++++++++ When my daughter was still in New Jersey for the summer I had started experiencing some new episodes of what was to be identified as hepatic encephalopathy (buildup of ammonia in the brain). My sister who lives next door luckily (and is the crux of my caregiving) often found me in bed practically unconscious, eyes rolling backwards, screaming, yelling, and combative. Apparently I would act the same way for many hours in the ambulance, the ER, and the floors of the hospital where I was initially transfused and diagnosed. The local paramedics and ER staff were my enemies turned new best friends. These episodes continued with increased severity, concern, and fear of those around me; two nearly catastrophic events were a fall down the stairs with a ruptured eardrum, and a car accident where my flipped my car over, and I was dangling by the seatbelt covered with and hovering over broken glass. I walked away without a scratch. +++++++++++++++ This went on for several months before I was told by a specialist that I needed a liver transplant. That’s right, a liver transplant at age 45. So I did all the work. High protein, low sodium diet, increase and decrease of fluid intake depending on weekly lab results, and religiously kept appointments with hepatology and radiology. Eventually, it got so bad that the fluid buildup in my abdomen would cause me to look pregnant as I was asked on a daily basis if I was. I started weekly paracentesis therapy in Austin, where the fluid was drained by a catheter inserted into my stomach under ultrasound guidance and upwards of 6 liters of unprocessed sludge was removed and would gradually fill back up towards the end of the next week. ++++++++++++++++ By September, I was let go from a company I had given my literal blood, sweat and tears to. Knowing how sick I was, Leadership went behind my back, and went behind the intermittent FMLA policy, to pull some strings and get me to leave effective immediately, and sign my rights away; hours after being discharged from the hospital following an episode of HE where my brain functioning was nowhere near capacity. They cited “performance issues” and that this had been “a long time coming”, even though there was no corrective actions or documentation to support these accusations. In that state, I succumbed to the pressure of a sudden leadership call presenting this to me and felt coerced to sign the agreement that they followed up multiples times that day for. I have no income now. Thankfully my father taught me how to handle finances before he left the physical world. I had to apply for Cobra and disability now, and muster through unnecessary administrative burdens, which had a drastic effect on my physical and mental health. I was quickly deteriorating and over the course of a year had lost 100 pounds. +++++++++++++++ The reality of needing a liver transplant hit me hard; the surgery represents not just a procedure, but a chance to reclaim the life I love. Trying to wrap my head around taking an innocent person off life support, and removing their organ and putting it into my body was almost too much to handle but I let the powers that be do their thing and accepted my fate. I would go on to spend two weeks in the hospital in San Antonio in the OR and ICU. We were told once we got the call we had to be there in 2 hours. I later learned that prestigious transplant surgeon who performed my surgery in 5 hours (typically 8-12) had done his first surgery as a resident in the same facility 20 years prior where I was also working, likely analyzing his claims for reimbursement! Small world and truly real life full circle moment for me! ++++++++++++++++ I continued to do the work and then some. When my teams wanted me to walk a few steps from the bed to the bathroom, I wanted to walk the halls, and did to their surmise. +++++++++++++++ For many months, I became reclusive. I was riddled with shame, fear, guilt, frustration, depression and anxiety. Slowly, but surely I started sharing bits and pieces and once you come to terms with the fact you don’t owe anyone an explanation for anything, it gets easier. A good friend from my past asked me questions and encouraged me to share more details. After that, the floodgates were open. The road to this transplant has been filled with countless doctor visits, exhaustive treatments, and the emotional weight of uncertainty. Despite the support of my loved ones and insurance coverage, the financial burden—from the surgical costs to lifelong medications and post-operative care—has become overwhelming. Every day brings new challenges, and the mounting medical bills have made it difficult to focus on my recovery and I am reaching out to you today with humility and hope, asking for your support during this critical time. Your generous donation will directly help cover the costs associated with my transplant surgery and the subsequent care needed to rebuild my life. Every contribution, no matter the size, is a lifeline that brings me closer to a healthier future. Thank you for taking the time to read my story and for considering a donation. Your kindness and support mean the world to me and my family, and together, I believe we can overcome this challenge and embrace a new beginning. With heartfelt gratitude, Korisa