Charlotte Newman • Life Stories • LLTGL

Often, it is not just the potential recipient waiting for the call. Charlotte Newman tells of the agonising wait she and her family are enduring as her dad hopes for the call telling him there is a heart ready for transplant:

In Nov '03, my father suffered a severe heart attack which required triple bypass surgery. Thanks to the admirable skill of surgeons and his own remarkable strength of mind, my Dad was able to leave hospital and it was hoped he would regain his health and quality of life. I was studying for my A-Levels at the time, but achieving high grades wasn't paramount in my mind! Unfortunately, since that terrifying time, we have undergone many more scares, and have had to make increasingly difficult decisions. The most distressing of these came in December of last year, when we were asked to choose between a repeat of the high risk surgery he had undergone initially, or activating him on the heart transplant list. The two were mutually exclusive, and we had to decide before Christmas. However, just as the enormity of this seemed too much, the medical team decided any form of surgery other than transplant would be too risky, with too little chance for success.

And so, on Feb 29th of this year, my Dad was put on to the heart transplant list. Somehow, deep down, I had always thought it would come to this, but it was still a huge shock when it finally happened. The trouble was, having witnessed a dear friend have to cope with the emotional 'washing machine' that is "life on the list" whilst she awaited her call, I knew what lay ahead. I say 'washing machine' rather than the traditional rollercoaster, as the latter implies you experience highs and lows. In an emotional washing machine, you are pelted with every emotion all at once, and they churn over and over. You can feel altogether quite drowned. It was very surreal being told to "have a bag packed" in case we were called, and it seemed a strange twist of fate indeed when, 4 days before my sister's wedding, we found ourselves dashing to the car in response to a phone call we’d had. It was Harefield Hospital, offering us a donor heart. My Dad would probably joke here about "bloody telesales", but the rest of us were pretty overwhelmed by the situation. Sadly, it was not our time, and the op was withdrawn for fear it would be too risky. Despite the obvious disappointment, we were left with a feeling of utter gratitude to the person who had lost their life, but who had wanted to help another person keep theirs. I truly hope their family is proud of the amazing gift they chose to give.

When asked, aged six, "what does your Dad do for a living?" I remember triumphantly replying; "He's an artist." Ask me now, and you'd get a similar answer, although he's been unable to work in his job as an animator for all these years, and I would probably add that he is currently awaiting a new heart, so much has it taken over our lives. Really, I'm lucky, as had I not known what a magical thing transplant can be, I would be feeling very lost right now. There are people like Emily and the LLTGL team who will not hear of a patient or their loved ones feeling alone. Finding my Dad barely conscious, his blood pressure plummeting, and having to hurtle towards the phone to dial for an ambulance is an experience I would like to, but cannot, forget. Such events occurred throughout my 3 years at University in Bristol, and the fun and excitement I experienced there was forever shrouded by fraught uncertainty of how my family was coping back home.

The best thing about this situation is that it can be turned around, and it is within our power to do this. I want us all to get our lives back, and I already feel thankful that someone I didn't even know wanted this to happen, too. I know that when my Dad gets his call, things can only get better.