|
|
Notes: Story written in (?). Date added to Web site: 4-1-01.
Read an update on Mario.
A Victory in Christ
by
Mario Azevedo, II
865-671-1044
| |
The transplant recipient at the 1996 Transplant Games, flanked by his buds Mark Johnson (on left) and Joe Boatman!
|
To put it simply, I have not been, nor ever will be, so lucky. The kidney transplant I received on March 29, 1988 changed my life forever -- significantly. Even though technology is as advanced as it is today in that someone with kidney disease can live forever through dialysis, there is still a huge difference between being on dialysis and having the luck of getting a perfect match transplant!
It was the year of 1985 when the disease I was a carrier of was fist diagnosed, which led to my kidney problems. The doctors advised my parents to take me to Emory University in Atlanta, GA, because Dr. John Woodward practiced there and he was one of the best urologist in the country.
After several surgeries to correct my urinary system, Dr. Woodward told us that when I got older, I would probably have to have a kidney transplant. As time went on, my bun and creatine levels kept going above the normal limits.So, Dr. Woodward told us that we should seek the help of one of the top pediatric Nephrologists from Vanderbilt University, Dr. Robert MacDonald, which happened to be a dear friend of my father's. It was then when the process of monitoring my development was stared.
In the spring of 1993, bun was approximately 84 and my creatine 8.8. Due to these high values, Dr. Mac told us that we should go ahead and plan the transplant for the summer, during the vacation period. By virtue of that recommendation, my Mom and Dad started the difficult process of "tissue typing blood work", searching out between the two who had the kidney that would be the best match for me.
When the results from the laboratorial analyses were made known to us, everyone at Vanderbilt Hospital was surprised that both Mom and Dad were a perfect match for me. But what would be the decision of them about who was going to be the donator? My Mom said that she would be the donator, but my father told her, "You gave him birth, and now, I will give him life!"
The transplant was a splendorous victory. And you may, friends, ask yourselves why I do call the transplant A Victory in Christ. First, because He loved me since the foundation of the world; second, because of the correct diagnosis; third because the surgery was perfectly carried out.
My Dad has told me a story about the day when he was driving home from work, feeling very nervous and upset for the pain I would have to endure. Suddenly he had the following vision: He was sat down on the side of his bed; then he looked across the hall to my room, and noticed a brilliant light coming from underneath the door. He paused a said "It is not time for the transplant yet! What are they doing to my son?" So he walked across the hall and slowly opened my bedroom door. Then, he saw two very bright creatures posted on each side of my bed, and the one who was at my right was blessing me with his hands. And from that moment on, my father said that God had told him to go and claim a victory in Him.
The big day came. We went to the hospital at 7:00 a.m., on June 2, 1993. It was very scary. We met with all the 'transplant and pediatric' teams. They prepared Dad and me psychologically concerning what to expect from the surgical work, how many days we were to stay in the hospital, etc.
A very deep and significant experience was that we had been supported by prayers from relatives and friends from Brazil and this country, among them Dr. Woodward, who by phone from Atlanta, kept in touch with Vanderbilt, following every step of the way.
We also had a presence of a Brazilian transplant surgeon, Dr. Nelson, who performed his first transplant surgery in 1962. He was given by Vanderbilt the privilege of observing the surgery. And Dr. Nelson's presence was very good for good news, because he kept going outside to tell everyone how things were going.
The surgery lasted approximately five hours. All things went wonderfully, thanks to God's blessing, including the fact that I was supposed to stay at the ICU for two days, but I stayed there just a few hours. All my bun and creatinine levels had gone down normal within the first 24 hours.
I became a friend of the doctors and all nurses, and the janitorial people would always come into my room and tell me how good I and Dad looked. They also made us feel at home, and even gave us the biggest room they had, by virtue of that we could stay together. In passing, my Dad is a big "chicken" (Ha!, Ha!).
I was up and walking after the second day after the surgery, but it took my Dad a little bit longer, because his surgery was more complicated than mine. However, after the third day we both felt great.
My purpose with this document is to tell all who read it that life is wonderful and transplants do work. I recognize that sometimes they don't. But we must believe that, through, them, God works, becuase He has a plan for all of us.
Today, I have a very normal life: I play basketball for Farragut Middle School, and also baseball. But I never, never forget to take my medications. And this is one thing I will say to you, who have had or are planning to have a transplant: take your medication every day and systematically, as recommended by your doctor.
I hope that I have given you something to hang on to. But please don't forget: This is the story of my victory. And I would love to know more about you.
Thanks for taking your time to read this.
Update
Coming soon.
| |
