Needless to say, we accepted the offer.
As most of you probably know, Mrs. T has been in New York-Presbyterian’s intensive-care unit since mid-December. I was with her when the call came, after which I returned to our apartment to get some preparatory sleep (we live a mile away). When I awoke, I checked in with the hospital and was advised that this offer, unlike the three previous offers that we’ve received since September, was not a dry run but the real right thing: the lungs proved on inspection to be suitable and have now been “harvested.”
Mrs. T is now on her way to the operating room. As for me, I’ve packed a pillow, an assortment of chargers, and a couple of thick books, my sturdy pocket edition of Trollope’s The Way We Live Now (printed on very thin paper) and both volumes of Tully Potter’s Adolf Busch: The Life of an Honest Musician.
We are, in short, as ready as it’s humanly possible to be.
Please don’t call—I need to keep my cellphone line open. No cards or flowers, either, not until much later on: she knows you care, and so do I. I promise to keep you posted, here and on Twitter and Facebook, though it will likely be quite a while before I have anything new to report. We’ve been told to expect Mrs. T to be on the operating table for eighteen hours or so, after which she will spend two or three days in a drug-induced coma, recovering from the surgery. Beyond that, only time will tell.
For now, thanks for your good wishes. They mean more than you can possibly know.
UPDATE: Mrs. T is in surgery—and somewhere out there, the family of her donor is grieving tonight. What can I possibly tell them? We are grateful beyond belief for the gift they have given us so unselfishly. We vow to use it well—and with love.
* * *For more recent news about Mrs. T’s condition, go here.
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Bill Evans plays “What Are You Doing the Rest of Your Life?” The song and orchestral arrangement are by Michel Legrand: