Liver Failure

Laurie holding sign saying she Dashes for her donor, family, and Penn.

What the Dash for Organ and Tissue Donor Awareness Means to Me

Guest blogger Laurie Shulte, a liver transplant recipient, talks about her transplant journey and what it has meant to her. 

As I prepare for the upcoming annual Dash for Organ Donor Awareness in April, I think about what the Dash means to me. People say the Dash is a celebration of life. It is when thousands of people come together near the infamous steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art to celebrate the lives of the angels who generously donated their organs and/or tissue and the lives of the people that were saved and/or enhanced as a result of these heroes’ courageous gifts.

But what does it mean to me to “celebrate life?” I have learned through my transplant experiences that there is a big difference between being alive and living. True, our lives were saved and we are thankful just to be alive. But to me, the Dash is a celebration of what it means to live. We were given a gift, not just to wake up another day, but to experience life as we otherwise wouldn’t have without the help of our donors. This meaning became clearer to me when I became “a recipient.”

Getting Healthy After Liver Transplant

Eight years ago, when I was only 24 years old, I couldn’t walk. I grew so sick in the months leading up to my liver transplant that my muscles atrophied. In fact, I couldn’t even lift my hand from the bed. After transplant, I lay in bed watching other patients make their walks around the floor, wondering when and if I would be able walk again. I knew I had a very long road to recovery ahead of me. Nevertheless, I made a vow to myself that I would do anything and everything I could to endure the endless physical and occupational therapy. I would take advantage of this new gift in every aspect of my life. From that point on, I was on a mission to be healthy.

Life After a Second Liver Transplant

So, not long after my transplant, when I was healed and able, I did something I never liked doing growing up. I started running. I ran because I could. It made me feel alive. As I ran, I thought back to my sickest moments, when I couldn’t move without someone’s help. I thought about my donor and what he had given me. And when I found out I needed another transplant, I ran some more. Just as someone would train for a marathon, I trained for my second transplant.

When I awoke from that surgery, the first thing I wanted to do was walk. When the nurse came in my room and wanted to see me get out of bed and into a chair, I happily obliged. Only sitting in the chair wasn’t enough. I wanted to (needed to) walk. When she wanted me to stop at the end of the hall and turn around, I insisted on continuing. I was going to be the patient that made her routine walks around the floor and not the one that watched from the sidelines. I thought to myself, “I am alive.” But even better than that, “I am living.” What a feeling!

Each time I run, I celebrate every moment I have been blessed with. This includes a fairy tale wedding, the purchase of my first home, a puppy and, the biggest gift of all, the birth of my daughter. I run for all these moments and the small ones in between. I run for the future and everything that is in store for me. But mostly, I run to honor my donors. The more I run, the healthier I am, and the longer I can keep this liver, a piece of my donor, alive. Every single step I take is a miracle that they have given me.

Promoting Organ and Tissue Donor Awareness

I look forward to standing on the starting line, a very proud participant of the Penn Transplant Team, surrounded by other people who share in this appreciation of life and who believe in the cause of promoting organ and tissue donor awareness.

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