USD Magazine, Summer 1996

- The donation day arrived on June 9, 1994. As a federal employee, Sorenson underwent his procedure at Georgetown University Medical Center in Washington, D.C., and as a Med– icaid patient, Gibler underwent hers at the University of Iowa Medical Center in Iowa City, Iowa. As Sorenson lay on the operating table, he noted the irony that his own mother passed away at age 37 from lymphatic can– cer, a disease that he believes might have benefited from a bone marrow transplant if the procedure had been available then. At 37, he was saving someone else who was dying from cancer. Just before he went under anesthesia, Sorenson says the true drama of the event hit him. He saw a nurse standing in the pre– op room covered head-to-toe in sterile gear and carrying a little cooler to transport the bone marrow. "I knew there was an ambulance and a plane waiting," he remembers, "just like for any organ transplant. This was life." While the events surrounding the donation were high-drama, Sorenson notes, the procedure itself was low-key. The surgeons simply extract marrow from two or three areas of the hipbone with a syringe-like device, he explains. The most discomfort he felt was during a few hours recovering from the anesthesia. (Full recovery from the procedure took less than two weeks.) The day after the procedure, he toured Washington, D.C., just like any other visitor. But while he was looking at the monu– ments, he knew that somewhere out there his genetic twin was fighting for her life. At the suggestion of the donation program, he wrote a letter that was to arrive with his marrow. A record-breaking corre– spondence started between the two soon after, though the let– ters were still sent anonymously and identifying details were deleted. This process protects the donor from developing a close relationship right away in case the recipient doesn't make it past the first year - a sad reality with organ and tissue dona– tions. But Gibler tlirived and celebrated her one-year anniversary with a new immune system. By this time, Sorenson and Gibler had formed a close bond and wanted to meet face-to-face. Because Gibler's struggle involved not only her illness but also her successful fight to change public aid policy in her state, the University of Iowa Medical Center hosted a news conference in Peoria, III., near Gibler's hometown, and flew Sorenson in to meet Gibler. On July 6, 1995, Sorenson walked into a room filled with news reporters, doctors, legislators and marrow donor program officials, strode over to Gibler and wrapped her in his arms. With tears in her eyes, Gibler mouthed a silent "thank you" and Sorenson answered with a simple, "God bless you." Nearly a year later, correspondence between the two hasn't slowed down, and the letters often are touching. "She'll write me these letters and say, 'I saw the most beautiful sunrise,' or 'I saw these magnificent flowers,"' Sorenson says. "And then she'll say, 'Thank you.' I'll read that and get misty-eyed. It gets me right in my heart. It's such an incredible experience to have someone thank me just for enjoying being alive.''

Sorenson does not consider his mission accomplished yet, however. He believes his true mission is to inspire others to donate, so he promotes the bone marrow donation program through public speaking engagements, by talking to potential donors at bone marrow registry drives and by getting the word out through his own story. As his story shows, the act of donating carries its own reward. "When you actually make that kind of difference in a per– son's life," Sorenson explains, "When you can look into their eyes and see the love and the appreciation and the gratitude, that's about as close to heaven on earth as you can get.'' Editor's Note: If you are interested in registering as a bone mar– row donor, call (800) MARROW2, or the San Diego Blood Bank at (619) 296-6393. Military or federal employees should call (BOO) MARROW3.

20 I usu

N E

M A G A Z