My journey to transplantation began in 1981. I had not been to a doctor in 10 or more years, so I thought a physical would be in order. The check up included a treadmill test. The cardiologist met me at the hospital (in those days that was about the only place you could have a stress test). The test began and the next thing I remember is the doctor trying to get a nitroglycerin tablet under my tongue. I had passed out 30 seconds into the test and fallen off the treadmill.
After three weeks of hospitalization and several procedures, the conclusion was that I needed a quadruple bypass. I was thirty-seven years old. In the ensuing eighteen years, I had four heart attacks, balloons, stints and several dopamine treatments. I progressed from coronary artery disease to congestive heart failure. One day I was scheduled for what had become frequent visits to my cardiologist. This day would prove dramatically different. I was shown to the exam room; the difference this time was my wife was waiting for me. The doctor came in and told me that he no more tricks in his little black bag and without a heart transplant he figured that I had about twenty-four months to live.
I transferred to St. Luke’s Episcopal Hospital where I was accepted to their transplant program. I waited twenty-one months and received my heart on July 13, 1999. The donor was a fourteen old boy, who at this writing has given me five more years of life. I hope to be able to continue on much further into the future cherishing his gift every day.