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Dialysis Discussion => Dialysis: News Articles => Topic started by: okarol on May 17, 2008, 10:01:51 AM
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Published: May 17, 2008 05:55 am
Susan Flynn column: Wife shares a piece of herself
By Susan Flynn
Staff writer
Most wives kiss their husbands before they rush off to work. Christine Monterio had a different morning routine. She would place a Lifeline button around her sleeping husband's neck. She'd make sure the back door of the apartment was unlocked for the EMTs. And once at work, she would call home to make sure he could get to the phone.
"If he didn't answer, sometimes he would be out for a walk," says Christine, "sometimes he would be on the floor."
Todd Monterio has lived with Type 1 diabetes for 26 years, a disease diagnosed when he was 17, about to start senior year. He was indoctrinated into the regimented world of insulin, complex carbohydrates and blood sugar levels and confronted with the truth his life would be carefree no more.
He managed, as they say, for a long time. But his quality of life severely deteriorated over the last several years. His kidneys were failing, and he needed dialysis four hours a day, three times a week. He could not work. He could not travel. He relied on a machine to keep him alive in a grueling routine that Todd only describes as "not fun."
His name was placed on a kidney donor waiting list. Right away, his wife wanted to be tested as a possible match.
"I was very resistant," says Todd, 43.
Christine insisted. It was just a blood test. It probably wouldn't work.
She got the call a week later to say she was a candidate.
Typically, live kidney donors are blood relatives. But anti-rejection drugs are much better today, so it's more common for spouses to be considered.
At Brigham and Women's Hospital, where the couple had their surgery, about 20 percent of the live donors are spouses. "It makes a lot of sense," says Dr. Stefan Tullius, chief of transplant surgery, "because the one who is not suffering is suffering to some extent."
Still, Todd had reservations. Two weeks before the surgery was scheduled in March 2007, Todd had what he called a meltdown. He called it off.
"I needed time to wrap my brain around it," he says.
He met with a therapist who helped him confront fears about his mortality and his uneasiness with the pressures being placed on him and his wife.
The surgery was scheduled again, for March 27, 2008.
The surgeons removed Christine's kidney in one operating room, while her husband was prepped in another. Later that same night, Todd walked down the hall to check in on his wife.
On Monday, seven weeks after the surgery, Christine returned to work. She is a medical social worker at Children's Hospital Boston, the person who waits with parents while their child has a brain tumor removed. She understands life is uncertain.
Some kidney transplants last a year. Some last 30 years. Todd will also most certainly need a pancreas donation some day.
"We pray to God the kidney continues to function for a long time, but we don't know that yet," Christine says.
Todd feels better. He's hungry and sleeping again. Christine no longer sets the alarm clock for the middle of the night to check if her husband is breathing.
They are advocates of organ donation, with Christine stressing the need for people to talk to loved ones about their wishes. Having been present at hundreds of deaths in hospitals, she can tell you that the orange donor stickers on the back of driver's licenses mean nothing.
They both say their marriage is stronger since the surgery. Todd is grateful, and so is Christine. She feels like she has been given a gift, too.
"Literally, I have a piece of her inside of me," says Todd, sitting on their couch next to his wife. "There's no way to explain that away to other people."
Staff writer Susan Flynn can be reached by e-mail at 978-338-2658 or at sflynn@salemnews.com.
http://www.salemnews.com/punews/local_story_137161924.html