I have only slipped away into the next room I am I, and you are you
This article is over 9 years old Frank Deasy and his wife, Marie, at home. Murdo MacLeod For seven months now, I have been living under a death threat.
Outwardly, my life appears fine: I have a busy family life with three children at primary school; I've just completed writing and producing a four-part drama for ITV; I seem vital, strong, full of life.
I eat healthily, I swim, I go to the gym every other day. Which makes it all the more surreal to know I have a tumour growing in my liver that will kill me unless I receive a liver transplant in the very near future.
I am only one of thousands of patients on organ transplant lists in Britain, living on our own, invisible, death row. When I was diagnosed with a primary liver tumour in January, it wasn't the first time: Having had this surgery, a transplant is now the only treatment option.
But more than treatment, transplant offers the possibility of a complete cure, of a body free of cancer cells. When I was put on the transplant waiting list in February, my prospects were good. The tumour had been picked up early. At 49, I'm relatively young and fit — I haven't drunk alcohol for 15 years, haven't smoked in Patients in my blood group, B, were being transplanted quite quickly, about every three or four months.
The NHS was going to save my life. Seven months later, things look very different.
At the Royal Infirmary in Edinburgh, the transplant centre where I am a patient, blood group B transplants are down compared with previous years. For some reason, no one quite understands, there is now a shortage of blood group B organs in the UK. I am heading for a crisis and so is the system. Patient numbers on the "B" list are growing and with that waiting times.
This carries a lethal significance. In my case, if the tumour were to grow beyond a certain diameter, I would no longer be eligible for a transplant as the risk of cancer spreading to other organs would be considered too great.
If my tumour passes this limit before a donor becomes available, I will be taken off the list. I will be beyond help. The tumour will inexorably overwhelm my liver and kill me.
Each day without a donor is a step closer to this calamity, to "going off the list''. On the other hand, a donor means I get my life back. It's a weird experience living with such extreme threat and promise.
It's why I'm staring into the bathroom mirror at 4am, still incredulous at this patient I've become. There are times the world he inhabits — hospitals, scans, donor organs — feels uncertain to me, alien, more like a dreamscape. I enter into my normal life so intensely I lose all thought of "him" and his illness.
On other occasions, there is only his overwhelming threat. I'm living two parallel narratives with reality suspended as I wait for them to connect. Waiting lists are everything.
People wondered why Steve Jobs, suffering from liver cancer, chose a relatively obscure hospital in Memphis for his transplant. It has one of the shortest waiting times in America. I'm writing a new series for the BBC. After my first bout with cancer, I won an Emmy for my work on the final episodes of Prime Suspect.
I poured myself into a dramatisation of The Passion for the BBC, identifying deeply with its themes of suffering and redemption.This, in turn, has led to a dramatic increase in the number of patients on the waiting list and in their waiting time.
2 Likewise, the number of deaths on waiting list has also increased. 3, 4 For example, between and , the number of liver transplant candidates waiting at year end increased 12‐fold (from 1, to 14,), and the.
This statistic displays the number of patients who died while on the organ transplant waiting list in the United Kingdom (UK) in / In this year patients died while on the waiting list. The change in policy was associated with an immediate increase in number of deaths among individuals on the waiting list, from about 11 deaths to 13 deaths per 1, registrants per month.
the waiting list was patients throughout this period. This could have filled a trough of 42 days in which no new cases were put on the list. Such a long list is clearly not tive deaths.9 These deaths would not be attributed to being on a waiting list. It is important to keep in mind that there.
According to the most recent data from the state, there are 18, Illinoisans on the state’s Prioritization for Urgency of Need for Services Medicaid waiting list.
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