Eleven Years Ago, Someone’s “Yes” Changed Everything
You read that right—someone else’s decision to say “yes” changed my entire future.
Eleven years ago, I was a 17-year-old recent graduate of Dutchtown High School (Go Griffs!). While my friends were off on their senior trip, I was lying in a hospital bed, battling five serious liver infections and waiting for the call—one that could save my life. I was born with a rare liver disease called Biliary Atresia, had my first surgery at just five weeks old, and always knew that one day, I would need a liver transplant to survive.
At the time, I had been on the transplant list for a little over a month and was ranked among the top five patients urgently waiting for a match. I knew it could take time—months, even years for some—but I prayed daily for the family who would have to make an unimaginable decision: to donate a loved one’s organs in the midst of their grief. That weight was heavy, especially for a teenage girl.
And then, something miraculous happened. After just three days of IV antibiotics, all five liver infections cleared. I remember the moment vividly: my mom was packing our suitcase as we prepared for discharge when there was a knock at the door. In walked a man I didn’t recognize. He introduced himself as one of the transplant surgeons and looked at me intensely.
“We can’t let you go home,” he said.
My heart sank.
But then came the words that would change my life:
“We have a possible liver for you. We’ll know more soon.”
He left the room almost as quickly as he’d entered. I sat in stunned silence, palms sweating, adrenaline racing. I had waited my whole life for this moment. I looked at my mom—her hand covered her mouth as tears welled in her eyes. Just the night before, I had told her that once she fully surrendered my health to the Lord, it would happen. And it did.
We cried. Then we laughed. We didn’t know what the future held, but we knew Who held it.
That evening, family and friends started arriving. The hospital was buzzing with medical staff preparing me for surgery. By nightfall, we were told the transplant would happen the next morning—May 31, 2014.
My “last meal” was simple: pizza. We gathered in my hospital room, eating, reminiscing, and wondering what the next morning would bring. I didn’t sleep that night. My mind was full.
When morning came, so did a stream of nurses and doctors. The final person to enter was the hospital chaplain. We prayed—over the surgery, my medical team, my donor, and especially my donor’s family.
Then, it was time.
A cheerful team of nurses arrived to take me to the operating room, wearing fun, colorful scrub caps. I wore a custom hospital gown embroidered with my name—anything to bring a little brightness to a heavy moment. I hugged my family tightly, then was wheeled away.
The OR was bright and busy. One surgical nurse stood beside me, held my hand, and asked how I felt. Tears filled my eyes—how could I possibly express my gratitude? She gently explained that they were starting anesthesia. We talked a bit more, then began the countdown.
10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 5… 4…
I woke up in the ICU, still intubated. I couldn’t speak, but I kept pointing to the ventilator. My body wasn’t quite ready yet, and my mom whispered in my ear to rest.
Things moved quickly. The next day, I was sitting in a chair. Two days later, I was walking the halls. Five days post-transplant, I was discharged to the hotel connected to the hospital. I was sore, but I felt unstoppable.
My recovery included a strict regimen: 22 pills in the morning, 23 in the evening, constant labs and follow-ups. It was intense—but worth every moment.
A few weeks later, I told my mom I wanted to write to my donor’s family. We sent the letter through the Louisiana Organ Procurement Agency (LOPA), and the family graciously accepted it.
I met them on what would have been Tyler Dufrene’s 18th birthday—just six weeks after my transplant. Tyler, like me, was 17. He loved his family, baseball, and fishing. He dreamed of joining the military after graduation. That day, his family sang happy birthday and asked me to blow out his candles. My heart broke—and yet, I was so incredibly honored. His legacy would live on through me.
When Tyler was just 15 and getting his learner’s permit, he was asked if he wanted to be an organ donor. Without hesitation, he said, “Yes.” He even had a heart placed on his license. He had conversations with his family, and when the unthinkable happened, they honored his wishes.
Today, I celebrate my 11th transplant anniversary—and Tyler’s yes continues to give me life. Because of him, I’ve gone to college and graduated with honors. I’ve gotten married, had children, traveled, and made memories I once feared I’d never live to see.
Tyler’s decision changed everything for me. I carry his legacy with every breath I take and live each day to the fullest, cherishing what many might call the “little things”—to me, they are everything.
To Tyler and the Dufrene family—thank you. I will never stop sharing his story and honoring his incredible gift.
If you’re considering becoming an organ donor, please visit
https://organawareness.org or https://www.donatelifela.org
to learn more. Your yes could change someone else’s tomorrow.
