Perfect match

 　　"I was so relieved to donate my bone marrow and kidney to a stranger. Now, more than a decade later, Rhonda and I have become close friends, and the help I gave her back then made it difficult for me myself Imagine." The author of this article, an ordinary woman in the United States, Ellie Bertrand, revealed her state of mind to the media for the first time.

　　

　　Becoming a Bone Marrow Donor

　　

　　As I unfolded my new calendar for 1994 in the kitchen, I felt like my life was finally back on track. Before that, I went through a difficult and lengthy divorce process. Now, my three sons and I are adjusting to my family life as a single mother.

　　I work in a furniture factory, and the income I get basically feeds a family of four and pays the monthly bills. One day at the end of January, after watching a few children get on the school bus, I was about to go to work when the phone rang. "I'm from the Red Cross," the caller said. "I got your name from the bone marrow donation register.

　　" Two years ago, I saw a picture of a baby in the newspaper, and something in his blue eyes attracted me to this article. The baby needed a bone marrow transplant, and the article asked people to go to the local Red Cross and get a blood test to see if their bone marrow could save the baby's life.

　　At the time, when my life hit rock bottom, my marriage fell apart, and I was worrying about my future children. Finding a job that would "help others", like being a physiotherapist or something, was what I was thinking at the time, because the hard work of making a living in the factory was exhausting. Maybe a woman as ill-fated as myself can help others, I thought. So I went for a blood test a few days later. Even though my bone marrow later failed to match the baby, I felt I could at least take some comfort in trying to do something for someone else. Later, my husband and I broke up, and the stress of life hit me, and I forgot to be on the bone marrow donation list. I just remembered the phone call from the Red Cross this morning.

　　"Could you come here for another blood test? You might be matched with a 24-year-old woman with leukemia," she said, "if you're still willing to be a donor."

　　"I Would love to test again," I replied word for word. The idea of ​​doing something for others for a long time excites me. I'm thankful that I've been healthy all my life, and maybe now is the time for me to share it with others.

　　The results of the inspection are out. My bone marrow matched the young woman with leukemia almost exactly. "Only twins," a doctor told me, "would be a better match than yours."

　　I flipped through the booklet about bone marrow transplants, and the pictures of the equipment on it gave me a little shudder—I didn't know the needles used It was so long! But I thought to myself, I should be able to persevere in the process.

　　My kids are young and don't understand what a bone marrow transplant is all about. My mother, however, was somewhat worried. "I will pray for you in church," she said. I don't pray very often, but I don't think there will be any problems.

　　On March 10, I drove across the state line to a medical center in Minneapolis. At the beginning of the bone marrow extraction, the doctor joked that my hands were shaking all the time. But before I realized the whole process was over, the marrow extracted from my pelvis was on its way to another hospital somewhere in the US, where the 24-year-old girl was already waiting.

　　The little pain caused by the extraction of the bone marrow quickly disappeared without any side effects. For the next few days, I've been speculating about what happened to the woman who received my marrow. Under US law, bone marrow donors and recipients cannot know each other's identities for a year, so all I can do is get regular updates on each other from the Red Cross. They said she developed some complications: double vision, unexplained fever, graft-versus-host disease (rejection).

　　This news makes me anxious. I asked my mother to pray for her. In September, a message came from the Red Cross that the girl who received my bone marrow was discharged home. It looks like the transplant was successful!

　　

　　Become a close friend with the recipient

　　

　　My life has changed a lot since then. during Christmas. I started dating a male colleague at the factory named Randy Bertrand. He always gave me a smile whenever he drove the forklift past my workstation. One day, my neck was sore from working long hours, and he insisted on helping me meet my quota. This man is indeed someone I can trust.

　　On the first anniversary of the bone marrow transplant, the Red Cross sent a letter listing the recipient's name and address: Rhonda Deeds, who lives in Manderford, Wisconsin - only 75 from me Miles! We quickly communicated with each other, exchanged photos, and exchanged phone calls.

　　"I don't know what to say," Rhonda told me candidly during our first conversation, "and saying 'thank you' doesn't seem like enough to express my gratitude for what you've done for me.

　　" I have to admit, helping you actually made my life feel a little better than before," I said, "I'm glad everything turned out to be very effective."

　　"I think so too." Rhonda's voice sounded like a photo He looked just as he looked in - gentle, humble, good character. I think Randy and I are the mild-mannered type, and Rhonda seems a little more shy. Although I did want to meet her and see how she was doing, I decided it would be better to wait until she offered to meet.

　　In the following period of time, the two of us got to know a lot about each other through exchanges in the two places. To my surprise, many of Rhonda's hobbies seem to be quite similar to mine. She loves kids as much as I do (she's a teacher), dogs, lilacs, traveling, but she's also a strong believer. "The doctor told me that even if I had a bone marrow transplant, my chance of survival was only 20%. None of my family's blood matched me successfully. But I didn't give up..."

　　After listening to her account, I didn't know what to say. . I used to do things but not as persistent as her.

　　My boyfriend Randy and I both wanted to invite Rhonda to our wedding in August, but since she hadn't mentioned that she wanted to be with us, I'd give it up for now. Just hope that one day soon, she will be willing to come and see us.

　　One day in the spring of the following year, Rhonda suddenly sent me a wedding invitation inviting us to her wedding in June. Her fiancé is her high school classmate, Kevin Jenson. One day in May, I got a call from Rhonda's sister, Brenda. "I wanted to surprise my sister, so I'm inviting you to come to our shower next Saturday for her (a custom party in some parts of the United States when brides are getting married)," Brenda said. "If you Come."

　　"Am I? I can't wait," I replied.

　　On Saturday, Brenda led me to a bedroom and waited. When Rhonda arrived, I was taken to the parlour by Brenda. "This is one of our distinguished guests," she announced loudly to the guests present.

　　Rhonda was stunned. "Ellie?" she called softly. Her eyes suddenly sparkled. Before I had time to speak, she had already rushed in front of me, opened her arms, and hugged me for a long time.

　　Rhonda turned and explained to the crowd, "This is Ellie Bertrand—she saved my life."

　　Everyone applauded. "I'm glad things turned out so well," I said, feeling a little embarrassed. I just made a small contribution and they all saw it as a big deal. In fact, Rhonda is a real brave man.

　　A few weeks later, as I sat in the lilac-covered wedding chapel and watched Rhonda walk down the aisle radiant, I realized how important a bone marrow transplant was to her. She now has an infinitely promising future.

　　A year and a half later, Randy and I moved a few times with our kids in search of a place to live. In the end, we found a nice big RV on a farm to not only live in, but also to tend to the farmer's herd of cows. The rhythmic work of milking 85 cows twice a day gives me a lot of energy and I feel comfortable.

　　

　　Donate another kidney

　　

　　But Rhonda's health has not been smooth sailing. she's calling me and

She tried to be optimistic when she wrote, but I sensed a tinge of weariness in her words. Her sister Brenda soon revealed to me that Rhonda was facing new health problems due to kidney damage from multiple radiation treatments before her bone marrow transplant.

　　One day in February, I opened the mailbox to find a thick letter from Rhonda. I immediately opened the letter and read as I walked around the barn towards the RV.

　　"I've been thinking about how to tell you about my current situation," Rhonda wrote in the five-page letter. She explained that her kidney function was getting worse, and the doctor's opinion was that if she wanted to survive in the long term, the best way was to get a kidney transplant. "Bone marrow donors are the best source of kidneys because two people have the same immune system. My body doesn't reject your kidneys...I feel uncomfortable telling you about your condition because you have I've paid so much...but I think I'll at least let you know the situation and be willing to consider the possibility..."

　　I couldn't help but stop and stand there dumbfounded. Donating bone marrow is easier, I thought, but the decision to transplant a kidney is not so easy. Rhonda's letter listed information about several hospitals she visited, where she spoke with the coordinator for organ transplant consultations. I got home and immediately picked up the phone.

　　“A kidney transplant is not something you should rush into,” the coordinator advised me. “It’s a major operation. You have to think about whether you want to live on one kidney for the rest of your life. The other kidney is damaged, especially at work."

　　I stuffed Rhonda's letter into my jacket and got up to do my afternoon milking. As I was milking, questions popped into my mind at the rhythm of my work: What if something happened to me, what would happen to the children? What if one of them got sick and needed a kidney? What if I What if the remaining kidney is damaged? But what if I'm Rhonda's only hope?

　　It appears that this decision was not solely my own. That night, after the kids were in bed, I handed the letter to Randy. "You know, my uncle transplanted a kidney to my uncle 30 years ago, and they both live a normal life now," Randy said. "Whatever decision you make, I respect your wishes 100 percent. "

　　My mother said she wanted to pray for me to make the right decision. The rest of my family, however, resented Rhonda's request. "It's too risky," they insisted. "It's a great sacrifice to have you donate your blood and flesh, but

　　. For the next few weeks, the long, narrow cowshed became my "chapel" for meditation every morning and afternoon.

　　I read some information on kidney transplants: How do doctors make a large incision under the donor's rib to remove the kidney, and how much scarring does it leave? Why is the surgery more difficult for the donor than the recipient, recovery period It could take 6 weeks...I used to be intimidated by those suction needles in the bone marrow transplant pictures, but this time I didn't feel intimidated when I made up my mind. I thought calmly and made my final decision.

　　As the 5th anniversary of the bone marrow transplant comes, I think it's a wonderful time for Rhonda to reminisce with me. I sent her a box of lilacs made of silk, almost the same color as the ones she had placed in the church at her wedding. On the attached note I wrote, "I think I've made a decision, but some of my family still have concerns. May they change their minds."

　　Rhonda called as soon as she received my gift. She burst into tears and was almost speechless.

　　Soon after, I passed various medical tests and psychological evaluations before the transplant. I told my three kids about it and they were all proud of me. As surgery day approached, my other relatives showed their support.

　　On the 5th of May, as I entered the operating room, I felt fine knowing that all my loved ones had my back. The surgery went well. After 6 hours, a nurse helped me get up and helped me move around. The next morning, I went to Rhonda's ward to visit her.

　　Rhonda sat up from the bed with a healthy look on her face. "Ellie," she said, grabbing my hands, "I thank God for giving me such a good person as you."

　　I knew how Rhonda felt. What makes me gratified is that an ordinary woman like me has actually done something that even I feel incredible.