The Man

I will keep this as short as possible. If I told the whole story it would take a week to read it.

In 1991 my brother was diagnosed with a Cardio-Myopothy, and severe Congestive Heart Failure. He was the tenth of eleven children, a very close knit family. I am number 8. He was declared disabled, was on SSDI, and moved in with me. Previously he had worked with me at the lab. He continued to assist me, and later, often voluteered at AIM, again to assist me.

On Jan. 28, 2011 he was in severely bad shape. His kidneys and liver were beginning to worsen, and this was the day I callled an ambulance. They took him to Pacifica Sur Hospital in the valley where they put him into an induced coma. While on the gurney being loaded into the ambulance he reminded me of things we said in the past, do what you can to save me, and let them do what they want if they cant.

After three days in an induced coma, somehow the doctors at Pac Sur got him admitted to Ronald Regan UCLA Medical Center, one of the absolute best cadiac hospitals in the nation, if not the county. Here is where I am going to skip alot of the story.

Twelve days later, still in a coma, it as decided to do a radical procedure, not a new procedure, but one that had never been done on someone is such bad shape. For five days now were had been told to expect that he not make it through the night. They did a final cat scan and thats when the doctor said, “I have never seen such a damaged heart continue beating,” and he suggested we do the procedure, warning us that he probably would not survive the surgery. We all knew what our brother would have said, and we signed the mountain of documents.

Enter Rocky, a nurse about 55 years old, maybe five feet tall, one hundred pounds soaking wet. A nurse who had been at UCLA for over 20 years, the best their is. Her task, to get as much fluid out of his system as possible by 9:00am tomorrow morning. At 3:25 that morning, with Rocky, her team, three of my sisters, one brother in law, and his best friend since pre-school in the room his heart stopped. That constan beep, straight line on the monitor. Instantly his bed is surrounded by medical personell, literally trapping my family in the room. His attending physician, not his surgeon, comes running in, “No, No, No,No Rock, whats happening.” Rocky is pounding his chest, and they get the paddles, they hit him who knows how many times, and then he lets out this grunt, the straight line starts reacting. They begin just yanking out IV tubes, and other things he is attached to. Rocky climbs on top of the gurney, when they pull a certain tube his heart stops again. Rocky starts pounding, literally pounding on his chest and they run the bed down the hallway, leaving the family behind. They told us there was a possibilyt that he won’teven make it to the OR, let alone survive. Dr Abas Ardehali comes in the room, he is the doctor in the video I posted,,”Do you still want to do it” Yes, my sister said, and if he doesnt make it donate any organs, he signed the card years ago.”No here is where I really skip alot.

Two months later my brotheris at home, attached to what is called a BiVAD, a Ventricular Assis Device. They are norally used on people who are already on the transplant list, but just need some assistance before a donor is found. Most only have one, on the right ventricle, My brother hand one on the left and the right, with half inch tubes connected to the ventricles, the aorta, and the superiour vena cava, the artery out of the lungs. His survival was nothing short of a miracle, he was written up in medical journals, he did interviews, he voluteered for every single experimental treatment they offered, he volunteered to speak with other VAD patients, incuding a ten year old girl, and a seventeen year old kid, Louis. The VAD patients at UCLA are lke a family. I was at his side 24/7,,sterlizing his ‘openings’ every day, hooking up his morning and nightbiotic antibiotic IV’s ., and walking, walking,walking. This is how he finally got in shape, and the call came, you are offically on the heart transplant list. You are 1A, top of the list, problem is,he’s a big guy with Oneg blood, and those hearts are far and few between.

On August 3, the call comes, “We have a heart, get down here” We are literally two steps from the door at UCLA and his phone rings again, the speciment was rejected. We had been counseled that this could happen. On that very long, quiet drive home was the very first, and only time I heard my brother actuall cry.

Two weeks later, no heart yet, we went for a routine exam. A small peice of plastic in the device had a tiny crack and needed to be replaced, “Simple as screwing on a bottle cap’ the doctors exact words. They twisted it too tight, they didnt know it, but it kinked the tube attached to the superiour vena cava, it flooded his lungs, the pressure built up, and it popped he device off. Two half inch tubes were fully exposed, a huge amount of blood squirt out , and then a huge amoout of air was sucked in. He never regained consciencenous, and 23 days later we turned off the machines. He died exactly one minute later, Sept, 25,2011, at exactly 6:31pm, surrounded by his family, with his hand on a crucifix that belonged to our mother, and one that belonged to a nephew.

Sign a donor card, one more donor card, anywhere in the nation in a two week period with someone who had Oneg blood, using the heart in a box could have saved him, one single card, next time it might be your brother who needs that ONE signed card, just ONE.

Two of my sisters who were in that room the day his heart stopped recieved that email.

This is the man whose legacy certain individuals in porn industry chose to attempt to distrace in order to shut me up. My brother lived, and died with more dignity than you could ever dream of having.