heyytaytay

I love this question!

The day I woke up from the coma I was in after my transplant, I had a strong craving for peaches. I hated peaches for the first 18 years of my life, but now I cannot get enough of them.

I don't really have any new personality traits, but I DID think my name was Mackenzie the first few days I woke up after my transplant. I eventually remembered that my name is actually Taylor, and things went back to normal. However, it was ~spooky.

Oh gosh. I was at school only hours before I was diagnosed with my heart condition, so I was not expecting to be diagnosed with a terminal illness.
I remember when the doctors sat me down and explained to me that I would die without receiving a new heart, I was...numb. My parents began sobbing and I just stared at the doctor in stunned silence. As I had time to think about it however, I was terrified. I was worred about the pain and the recovery and the medication I would have to take. I was worried I would feel ugly with my new scars. I was worried that I would feel empty and different with a new heart pumping my blood through my body. I have to admit though, I was always the most worried about how I would end up receiving my heart. While I was waiting for the heart, my future donor was still alive somewhere. I knew that they would have to die in order for me to live, and that was a hard fact to sit with.

Nobody did, but my first heart broke my vagina. I didn't have my period for like a year.

So there's that.

I had one man tell me that he hoped I hadn't received my new heart from a male because he didn't want me to become a lesbian. I choked back laughter before I had to explain to him that I wouldn't suddenly fall in love with women because my donor was attracted to women. He apparently didn't know that that's how love and attraction work. That is still, to this day, the weirdest thing that has been said to me.

I have also had several people tell me that I shouldn't still be alive because "God had intended me to die". I've learned that the best response to that is just to ignore it because seriously, what could I actually say to that?

Ah! This isn't dumb, I just didn't address this yet.

Before my surgery, I was placed on a life support machine called an ECMO that went into my femoral artery and sent my blood outside of my body and through the machine and back into my body so that my heart wouldn't need to pump. During my transplant, they removed the machine and tore my femoral artery. I bled out into my stomach and needed 6 blood transfusions. They eventually drained my abdomen and fixed my femoral artery, but I died several times and was shocked back to life in the process.

tldr; They cut in to my abdomen because I bled out during surgery.