The Winning Pitch

“Ugh. It’s that short, left-handed pitcher. I hate batting when she is pitching. I wish they would sub her out and put in a new pitcher.”

Rewind to the very, very early 80’s and that was me talking to myself about Christi as she was standing on the pitcher’s mound. We weren’t quite friends yet – just acquaintances. She was my arch nemesis of the softball field. I hated going to bat against her left-handed sorcery. I was sure she was trying to bean me with the ball every time she wound up that arm. I swore if she hit me, the next time I was at bat against her, I was going to peg her right in the gut with the ball. Forget trying to steal a base.......she’d be watching you like a hawk. Christi loved nothing more than staring down a good challenge and coming out a winner.

Fast forward 38 years later to January 2020, and some 37 years of friendship.

It was a typical day. I had just started a new job and was driving along on the freeway in Dallas, jamming to some music on the radio and my phone rang. A mid-day call from my bestie. “Odd”, I thought to myself. We don’t usually talk on the phone in the middle of the day, text yes. Talk, well – we are both usually at work.

Me: “Hello, bestie. What’s up?”

Christi: “Well, bestie. I have some news to tell you and it’s not good. I have Stage 4……………..”

I hear her. I know she is still talking. There are words being said, but after “Stage 4”, I felt like all I heard was something similar to Charlie Brown’s teacher talking. I had to shake my head and focus. What was she saying? The words were just noise.

Me: “I'm sorry. Can you say that again?”

Christi: “I have Stage 4 Liver Disease caused by something called Alpha 1 Antitrypsin. I need a liver transplant, bestie. I am going to die if I don't get a liver.”

Me: “Okay. Alright. Liver disease. You need a new liver. Okay. Let’s get you one of those. What do we need to do? When do you need it? What is the plan?" (and a million more questions).

I tried to keep my composure. I didn’t cry audibly (though tears were rolling down my face). I knew neither of us would be able to speak if one of us let out an audible sob. And I was driving. On a Dallas freeway. I needed to be able to see or I might be the one needing a new liver from having a car accident.

The next 10 months were hard. The hardest I’ve ever been through in my life (minus having a very sick baby in the NICU). I prayed. I cried. I got angry. I was sad. I was scared……..scared that my person was not going to make it her birthday, let alone the one that we are celebrating today.

And then there was COVID. She is half way across the country. We were in the midst of a pandemic. I wasn’t allowed to fly up and see her – it was too risky for her. My heart was breaking into tiny pieces. I needed to hug her. I needed to take her to the beach,our beach, so we could just breathe the salt air and laugh and cry. But I couldn’t. I was stuck 2,074 miles away from her.

There were days I would be driving to work and I would just start sobbing uncontrollably. I’d talk to God the entire commute and ask Him to find us a donor for her and to keep her alive long enough to receive a new liver - to save my bestie. I needed her.

I immersed myself in everything transplant related. I sat in on calls with her doctors and transplant team. I read articles. I researched. I read about her medications. I read about what the transplant would be like and what she would experience after. I studied up on what she was going to experience as her illness progressed. I spoke with the donor advocate coordinator at the UW. I became as educated on liver disease and transplant as I possibly could. I joined support groups on Facebook. Whatever I could do, I did it.

We got matching bracelets that were morse code for “Badass”. We wore them every single day until she was wheeled into the OR for transplant and had to take it off. Badass, indeed. Webster’s should put her picture for the definition of badass.

A few months after Christi was placed on the transplant list, we were chatting and she told me that one of the requirements from her social worker at the UW was that she had to plan out her own memorial service in the event she did not survive. I won’t lie - that one brought me to my knees. My best friend was at home planning her funeral. No. Just…..NO. A few days later she asked me to send her as many pictures of her and I that I had easily accessible. I knew why she was asking……………she was building a slide show for her funeral. Once again, I was crippled with such overwhelming sadness.

There wasn’t a day that went by that we didn’t communicate in some form – every single day we talked or texted without fail. That was until she began to deteriorate further and the toxins in her body infiltrated her brain. Days would go by and she was unable to text or talk on the phone. She didn’t even know how to answer her phone on the days where the hepatic encephalopathy was rearing its ugly head. Think of it as dementia caused by poisons in your body because your liver is failing. Not knowing where she was, her body at times becoming strangely paralyzed.

Those days were the hardest. Not being able to get a text back or talk to her. I felt as if I was getting a glimpse into what it would be like if she didn’t survive long enough to get a transplant. My person, my bestie, the peanut butter to my jelly………….she needed a liver or my texts and calls would go forever unanswered. It was a version of grief to some extent and I hated it.

I was incredibly thankful for Bobby during all of this. He tolerated my constant texts asking how she was doing when she couldn't communicate. He let me text her messages to his phone so he could relay them. He may not know it, but he was not just Christi’s rock, but mine as well. Without him keeping me in the loop during the times I could not communicate with Christi, I would have truly lost my mind. He’s a Godsend. He made so many sacrifices and lived those months as a worried, exhausted, scared husband, all the while a caregiver. He slept in his car in the hospital parking lot when Christi was in ICU. He refused to be but just steps from her. He made quick trips home over the pass, in the winter, to pick up one or two things she really wanted. I couldn't, in a million years, ask for a better husband for my bestie.

As we inched closer to the end of October, Christi's body was trying to give up. We had several false alarms for livers. Car was packed and they were ready to head over the pass only to be told, “This one isn’t a good match”, or “you're back-up and someone else got this one”. It was a roller coaster, but the false alarms were a sign that she was up there high on the list and we were so, so close. We just needed her to hang in there and keep fighting a little longer.

At the end of October, she was admitted to UW and would stay there until transplant, but we were running out of time. On November 8th, 2020, after a little over a week in the hospital and with only 24-48 hours to live, the Lord answered our prayers with a yes! There was a liver, it was a match, and she was not back-up this time. Christi was getting a liver. She would be in surgery for many hours, overnight into November 9th.

My last conversation with her pre-transplant was 18 minutes long. We talked and laughed. I prayed over the phone for her, for Bob,for the medical team and for the donor’s family. My badass bestie was headed into the OR for a new liver.

In the midst of our celebration, we never lost sight that another family was grieving the loss of their loved one. Our hero donor saved my best friend's life.

We are now 8 months post-transplant. It’s flown by. I can remember it like it was yesterday. I can tell you what worship song I listened to all night long the night of transplant, over and over. I can tell you about the 3 a.m. phone calls I got from Christi when she was alone in her hospital room and needing someone to talk to. I can tell you word for word what I said and what we talked about the night she was having a panic attack after a follow-up procedure went terribly wrong.

And let me tell you about my God – He is a good, good God and He has answered our prayers. Even had He not answered, He would still be good. He is always good. He was with all of us every step of the way and I knew He never left Christi’s side.

I am thankful every single day for the new lease on life that Christi has been given. I am thankful that we have many more birthdays to celebrate (for those that don’t know, our birthdays are only 13 days apart). But her birthday this year – it’s a bit more special and she deserves to be celebrated BIG!

So much has changed over the 38 years that I have known Christi. But one thing remains the same - she will still stare down a good challenge and will come out a winner, throwing the winning pitch - I just no longer want to peg her in the gut with a softball when I’m the one she is looking at.

“Friendship is the sweetest form of love. So when I say I’ll be your friend ‘till the end, it’s as good as saying I’ll keep you in my heart until it’s very last beat.”