ANDREA EISENMAN
She had written that knowing her mother lived on through me eased her pain.
Organ Transplant Stories
Forming A Unique Bond–Winter 2002
BY ANDREA EISENMAN
Several times after my operation, I woke up crying. You would think after waiting so long to get the double lung transplant that would change my life, I would be extremely happy. And I was. But as I was slowly being weaned off pain medications and resuming a conscious waking state, I realized I had felt a distinct sadness for my donor and her family. My heart went out to them for their loss. At that point I knew very little about my donor except that she was 48 years old and had lived on Long Island. I did not know the circumstances of her death. But I figured she had a family and friends that were devastated by her passing.
While I was waiting for my transplant, I was often conflicted by the thought of receiving someone else’s organs; someone who had died so I could live. Call it guilt or maybe I felt undeserving, but I didn’t think it was fair. My friends would say, "This person would have died anyway, at least someone can benefit from it. It’s not like you killed them." Rationally I knew this to be true but emotionally it wrecked me.
Three days after my operation my father caught a severe cold from the stress following my transplant. He wasn’t allowed to see me because of the risk of infection, so he put all his energies into writing the donor family a beautiful thank you letter. In it he described me, my battered lungs due to cystic fibrosis, and what a fighter I had been all my life. He wanted them to know that I would treasure their generous gift and never take it for granted. So far he’s been right.
As my health progressed, and I left the hospital, I was very grateful to be alive. I knew I was fortunate to be doing so well. Internally I thanked my donor every day. Someone asked if I knew anything about my donor and if I’d like to meet the donor’s family. My reply was yes, if given the chance, I would love to meet them and thank them personally. I wanted to show them what a wonderful thing they had done by giving me a second chance and I hoped it would give them some solace. It was all a very abstract concept until about nine months after my transplant when I received a letter from the donor family. It came to me via my hospital, Columbia-Presbyterian in New York City. I was happy to get the letter so soon. When you write a letter to a donor family, it usually takes a year for them to receive it to allow a proper grieving period.
In the letter, the writer introduced herself as the youngest of four children whom my donor left behind as well as a husband, parents, and siblings. Her mother had died suddenly as a result of an emergency brain operation. It stemmed from a congenital condition that she and her family were unaware of until she started getting headaches and seizures. The daughter described her mom as the strongest person she had ever known and a woman who had never let anyone down. And she assured me that her mother would never fail me or my family. She added that she felt a great love for me because I hold a piece of her dear mother. She also mentioned that some day she would like us to meet. Well, I didn’t get through her letter without many tissues. I was deeply touched that someone who was suffering so much would reach out to me!
After reading her letter innumerable times and sharing it with most of my friends, I responded. In my letter to her, I must have said thank you in every possible way; but I still felt it would never be enough. I also told her all the things that I can now do because of her family’s generosity. Since she had mentioned meeting some day, I sent her my address and phone number, thinking when she was ready we could arrange a meeting.
We corresponded a couple more times and then after about five months I got a phone call from her. I could finally put a voice to my savior. I was happy to hear from her, but I was worried about saying the wrong thing. She was so nice, and we laughed and cried on the phone. Since we hit it off so well, we arranged for her and her brother to come over for lunch. It had been over a year since her mother had died and my transplant had taken place. She and her family were still understandably grieving deeply. I was nervous about upsetting them more, but I wanted them to see what a wonderful thing they had done for my family and me.
When the day came, it was surreal. Her mother’s lungs were in my chest keeping me alive. How does one act as if there’s nothing weird about that? But the daughter and son of my donor came over, we ate, we talked, laughed and tried not to cry. To ease the tension, the daughter gave me a card when she arrived. On it she had written that knowing her mother lived on through me eased her pain. She stated that she was happy that we had gotten to know one another and hoped we could continue a relationship. Even though she and her family were devastated by her mother’s death, they were happy to know that she had been able to save five lives and live on through her organ donation.
They brought pictures of their mom, dad, and two other sisters. In the pictures everyone looked so happy. Their mom looked like a wonderful person, so full of life. I told them about my sadness in the hospital for them and their mother. And that not a day goes by that I don’t think of her. Now, at least, I have a face to put with my thoughts.
I was able to ask them about their mom’s life and why they had chosen to donate. The daughter told me they decided to donate their mother’s organs based on her brother’s experience. Before his mother became ill, he had just started dating a young woman who had received a heart transplant when she was a child. So when they were asked whether they would donate the organs, it was the daughter who thought they should, based on the transplant success of her brother’s girlfriend.
That day I learned so many things about my donor and her family. Somehow I also felt an affinity with my donor. Our personalities were similar in that we always pushed ourselves and didn’t like to let people down. I’ve thought it strange that I never experienced rejection. Was it mostly due to close tissue typing or perhaps more? The more came just a week ago when I was invited by my donor’s daughter to a donor luncheon hosted by the New York Organ Donor Network.
It was a lunch given once a year to thank donor families and to honor the donors. She invited us to share this event with her. My mom and I were very touched that she included us. It was a lovely but emotional afternoon. While we were sitting at the table I asked about her family. She said she had just talked to her grandfather because both his and her own birthdays just passed, as well as her mother’s. I asked what the dates were and she said her grandfather’s was November 26, hers was November 27, and her mom would’ve been 50 years old on November 29. She said they always joked that they needed someone to fill in the gap between them. And I said, "You just found ‘em. My birthday is November 28." The three of us all got a chill, and she said, "Ooh, my hair’s standing up." I think that’s how we all felt. It brought tears to my eyes.
That coincidence convinced me that it was fate that led us together. I now have an additional connection to my donor and her family. By the daughter’s reaction, I could see she felt this way too. The emotional conflict that I had struggled with had come to a resolution through acceptance. Now the puzzle pieces fitted together comfortably. We formed a relationship that would never have been possible without our extenuating circumstances. I am fortunate to have gotten new lungs and a wonderful extended family. We always will stay in touch.
Andrea is 39 years old and received her transplant on April 25, 2000. She is a Director of USACFA and does the layout of CF Roundtable. Her email adress is: aeisenman@usacfa.org