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A
Gift |
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By
Anne
Federwisch As a certified procurement and transplant coordinator for the Indiana Organ Procurement Organization in Fort Wayne, Joyce Roush, RN, knew of the dire need for kidney donations. She knew that more than 43,000 Americans await kidney transplants each year. She knew that the 11,990 transplants annually don't come close to fulfilling that demand. Most significantly, she knew that 2,300 people die each year waiting for a life-sustaining donation So after she learned about laparoscopic nephrectomy at a March 1998 conference for transplant coordinators, she knew what she wanted to do: donate a kidney to whomever needed one. What she didn't know at the time was how long it would take, how much convincing her family would need, and how instrumental she'd be in bringing the need for kidney donors into the national spotlight. Never in doubt "It was an instantaneous decision and one I never had second thoughts about," Roush said. But she was surprised to be only the second person in the country to make that decision (a woman in Minnesota reportedly donated her kidney to a stranger shortly before Roush did). "I had this vision that it would be like when Elton John tickets go on sale in Fort Wayne," she said. "I had this funny mental image that lots and lots of people would want to do this." But they don't. Only 163 kidney donations a year come from living donors unrelated to the recipient. Virtually none are non-directed, that is, given to someone other than a friend or a relative. Roush's husband and five children were not as enthusiastic as she was at first. "Honestly, my husband about threw up" the first time he heard about the idea, Roush confessed. But by giving him and her children a continuous stream of information for the year and a half before her surgery-and by never wavering in her conviction to donate-"by the time September came, they were 100 percent behind me," she said. An absence of protocols The surgery didn't take place until Sept. 7, which surprised even Roush. "When I do an organ donation case [with a donor who has just died], I can have all the major organs in the body allocated in the period of a few hours," she said. "It never dawned on me it would take 18 months." Part of the delay arose from the uniqueness of the situation as no protocols existed to guide the team through the process of readying a living donor and an unrelated recipient. "It was sort of a work in progress as we went along," said Kathryn Dane, RN, the nurse at Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore who coordinated the many tests Roush underwent to determine her suitability as a donor. "They did every test you can imagine," Roush said. The thousands of dollars worth of blood tests, CT scans, and mental and physical examinations cost her nothing-the hospital billed the recipient's insurance. Although the transplant team wanted to confirm that Roush's kidney was healthy, "more of their concern was that my decision to do this would not do me any harm in the present or potentially in the future," she said. The battery of tests eventually confirmed that Roush's motives were altruistic, her health good, and her psyche intact. But a suitable beneficiary remained elusive. The mother of the first potential recipient stepped in at the last moment to donate her own kidney. Johns Hopkins physicians ruled out a second compatible patient when medical tests deemed her too high risk for the procedure. The ultimate beneficiary was Christopher Bieniek, a 13-year-old from Aberdeen, Md. Sparking an interest Yet Roush's potentially trend-setting action has affected more lives than just Christopher's. A friend persuaded her to go public with her story to spread the word about the need for donations and to spur more people into action. "Organ donation is not one of those things that makes very good cocktail party talk," Roush said, because it usually involves discussing death. But the story of a woman who gave a kidney to a teen-ager she didn't know is great fodder for small talk. One hundred fifty media interviews later, the message is taking hold. Roush's nephrectomy "gives more people reason to think about donation," said Sam Davis, Roush's supervisor at the Indiana Organ Procurement Organization. "Whether they want to do it when they're dead or whether they want to do it when they're living is something else they need to think about." Johns Hopkins reported calls from 40 potential donors after Roush's surgery. Queries to the Indiana Organ Procurement Organization increased, and calls to the United Network for Organ Sharing doubled. Others are heroes But one area that probably won't be affected by Roush's unselfish donation is her own work with families of potential donors. "I will never tell a family I'm dealing with that I've been a donor," she vowed. "I would never want them to feel pressure to donate their loved one's organs because I was a donor." Because she made her decision to donate her kidney at a time when she was experiencing no pain or loss in her life, Roush truly believes it was no big deal. "Those people who make that decision after they've just been told that their child has died or their husband or wife has died, and a few minutes later they're saying, 'Yes, take the organs, help somebody else,' those are the people who are the heroes," she said. |
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