I Hate Dialysis Message Board
Dialysis Discussion => Dialysis: News Articles => Topic started by: okarol on February 14, 2009, 07:44:56 PM
-
Valentine's Day marks 30 years of man living with mom's kidney
By Michele Munz
ST. LOUIS POST-DISPATCH
Saturday, Feb. 14 2009
Michael Weiss' wife takes a back seat to his mother on Valentine's Day. Every
Feb. 14 for the past 30 years he has taken his mom out to dinner and showered
her with the usual holiday treats: cards, roses, chocolates or teddy bears.
This day is theirs; it's the day she gave him life for the second time.
The two are apparently a perfect match. The kidney she gave him on Feb. 14,
1979, was expected to last at least two years, and a decade at most.
"The number of people who were transplanted that year and are still walking
around with that kidney, I can guarantee you I can count on one hand," said Dr.
Paul Garvin, director of abdominal transplants at St. Louis University School
of Medicine and Weiss' surgeon.
There won't be a dinner this year, however. Instead, the family decided to mark
the milestone today with about 30 relatives and close friends at the Kirkwood
House senior housing, where Weiss' aunt lives.
Michael Weiss, now 51, will have a few words to say about his mom, Jackie
Weiss, now 76.
"I want to make it clear to everyone that though they've been invited to my
30th anniversary party, that it's really not about me. It's about her and her
strength and courage to do this," he said. "It wouldn't be 30 years if it
wasn't for her."
THE DIAGNOSIS
When Michael Weiss was 21, he lost his welding job and moved to Denver to work
as a mechanic. He immediately started to suffer from bad headaches and blurred
vision. Everyone thought it was altitude sickness. Within a week, however, he
was in the hospital and diagnosed with glomerulonephritis. His immune system
had gone berserk and destroyed his two kidneys.
He immediately began dialysis, in which machines replaced the work of cleaning
his blood. After a month in the hospital, he moved back in with his parents in
Rock Hill. He spent five hours three times a week hooked up to the kidney
machines.
His mom immediately wanted to give him a kidney. She knew she had the same rare
blood type. She knew a kidney from a blood relative had a much higher success
rate. Weiss thought he could do fine with the dialysis, he said, but she
persisted. Then he passed out at a party and hit his head on the bathroom door.
"I went home that night and said, if you really want to do this, let's go and
get tested," he said.
His mom's kidney had a 90 percent chance of being accepted by his body for at
least the next two years — that was all doctors knew for sure at the time,
Garvin said. Some doctors considered Jackie, then 46, too old for the surgery.
Today up to 14,000 kidney transplants are done nationwide each year. Thirty
years ago it was fewer than 2,000, Garvin said. Most of the organs came from
cadavers. Today, nearly half come from a live donor, some as old as 60. Better
antirejection drugs have opened donation to anyone willing and healthy enough.
The surgery — now mostly done through a small incision by laparoscope — was
more invasive. It involved an incision halfway around the waist and removal of
part of a rib. Jackie Weiss was warned of a painful recovery, the risks of
major surgery and her lack of a backup should her remaining kidney fail. But
she didn't blink.
"I can't imagine any mother who wouldn't do it if she could," she said.
Michael Weiss never sensed any fear from his mother. She's always been that
way, he said — calm when somebody is sick or hurt, always the leader. She's
been his rock, raising him and his two older sisters while his father worked
two jobs.
"For her, her life was not as important as mine," he said.
The surgery fell on Feb. 14, forever making this date about more than the
traditional holiday.
"It'll be a day we won't forget," Weiss recalls telling his mother. "It will be
a day every year we'll remember because it will be Valentine's Day."
SIMPLE PLEASURES
Weiss didn't focus on the prospect of how long his donated kidney might last.
He took joy in simple things — playing pool, fishing, swimming and washing
cars. He was thankful to go to work, starting out as a porter and eventually a
manager at local car dealerships. He now works at Plaza Motors in Creve Coeur.
Most satisfying was his renewed interest in music.
As a preschooler, Michael had tapped on encyclopedias stacked at different
heights while listening to Elvis songs on the radio. He got his first drum set
at age 6. But he had hardly touched the drums since he had to sell his set at
16 to cover $100 in phone calls to a girlfriend.
After his transplant, he bought a used drum set. Within three months, he was
playing in a band.
He played with several local rock bands, then got into country music and played
monthly at Wild Country in Collinsville.
"There's a thrill on stage that's indescribable. The adrenaline starts pumping
and you can't wait to go and get it going," he said. "I needed that."
He met his wife, Carla, at a doughnut shop. They married in 1989 — the year his
kidney was supposed to give out. "We'll just cherish the time we have
together," she told him.
SIDE EFFECTS
Although Weiss beat the odds, the past 30 years have not been easy. He must
take three different medications daily to keep his body from rejecting the
kidney. The side effects of his medications include brittle bones, a weak
immune system, susceptibility to cancer and inability to have children.
He has had three hip replacements and his neck bones fused together, several
infections and numerous skin cancer lesions removed. When he got throat cancer
in 2004, he stopped playing the drums. He started going to church two years
ago, and religion has offered him comfort: "I feel a higher power is in charge,
controlling my life and my destiny."
Garvin, his doctor, attributes the success to Weiss' age and good health at the
time, plus diligence in taking his medicine, eating properly and exercising.
Jackie Weiss, now of Perryville, Mo., teared up as she thought how the holiday
has become a celebration of life. "It usually hits me every Valentine's Day,"
she said, "just the fact that he's still with us."
Michael Weiss, now of Cedar Hill, said he feels so well, he plans to put an ad
in the paper seeking a band in need of a drummer.
For him, Feb. 14 is like a second birthday party. But foremost, it's about his
mother's love.
"I owe something to my mom. She gave me birth twice," he said. "I need to take
good care of her, especially on Valentine's Day."
http://www.stltoday.com/stltoday/news/stories.nsf/stlouiscitycounty/story/4BD05DFDB811C4908625755D00103CD8?OpenDocument