Chicago Magazine - 09.2019

(Kiana) #1

SEPTEMBER 2019 | CHICAGO 151


was a potential match for Sarah, and she


had three healthy organs. Was UChicago


Medicine interested?


Bucio called Bryan Smith, Sarah’s


attending physician. “Well, I guess


nobody’s getting any sleep for the next


48 hours,” she said.


“What are you talking about?” Smith


responded.


“Sarah,” she explained. “We have an


offer.”


“You’re kidding?”
Smith soon found himself, for the

second time in two days, knocking on


a patient’s door with life-altering news.


A month earlier, not long after she’d


been admitted, Sarah had endured a false


start. The transplant team’s members


believed they had organ matches, and she


was already in an operating room when


word came that there was a problem with


the heart. The surgery was off. It was a


hugely disappointing turn of events for


her and her family.


Smith felt sure that wasn’t going to


happen again. He’d seen the charts of


the donor patient. Her organs were in


perfect shape. Still, he forced himself


not to get too excited when he entered


her room, where the family appeared to


be celebrating.


“So you’ve heard the news?” he asked.
“Yeah,” said Sarah. “Daru got his

organs and his surgery is going really


well!”


“No, no, we actually have an offer for


you.”


Sarah stared at him in disbelief.


SHE WASN’T THE ONLY ONE


having a hard time fathoming what was


happening. No hospital had ever per-


formed two triple transplants within a


year. UChicago Medicine was preparing


to begin a second one within 27 hours of


starting the first. Was that even possible?


It had to be. The offer of three matching


organs simply could not be turned down.


Bucio had already sprung into action,


working out the logistics. Because Sarah’s


organs were coming from some distance,
UChicago Medicine would need three
jets, plus ground transportation to and
from both airports.
Meanwhile, the cell phones of sur-
geons, nurses, anesthesiologists, and
assistants were lighting up with group
texts. “It’s all hands on deck,” Bucio told
her team.
Less than 24 hours earlier, Yolanda
Becker, director of UChicago Medicine’s
kidney and pancreas program, had been
starting her Christmas staycation, with
plans to go to a spin class, spend time
with her family, maybe pamper herself
a little. Then came the call about Daru.
The hospital’s only other kidney trans-
plant surgeon, Piotr Witkowski, would be
retrieving the donor organ. Could Becker
put in Daru’s new kidney? “Of course,”
she had said.
Now she would be doing Sarah’s, too.
For some members of the surgical
teams, the two procedures would mean
not just being awake but working for
up to two days straight. But doctors are
used to taxing stints. Over the years,
Becker has learned to nap standing up.
Jeevanandam, the heart surgeon for both
transplants, once flew to India, spent a
few hours lecturing students shortly
after he landed, performed a transplant,
went to dinner, and caught a plane back
to Chicago — all with no sleep.
For months, the staff had gone over
the logistics of pulling off a triple trans-
plant. But the uncharted ground of a
second one presented unforeseen com-
plications. Becker worried she might not
have enough sterilized instruments on
hand. Altogether, the surgeons would
need some 600 to 700 instruments for
each of the two triple transplants. There
were also three other transplants hap-
pening at the hospital at this time, one
of which was a double: kidney and liver.
In between each use, instruments
have to be taken to a sterilizing area to
be washed and inspected before they
are loaded into a special sterilization
machine. After that, the instruments
are inspected again and assembled
onto trays, each of which holds about

100 tools. Those trays are wrapped and
boxed, then loaded into an autoclave, a
pressure cooker of sorts that uses steam
to kill microorganisms resistant to
detergent and boiling water. The entire
process takes three hours.
To ensure that Becker and the other
surgeons had the instruments they
needed when they needed them, the
sterilization team would monitor a giant
scoreboard-like screen that tracks what
stage every surgery is in. They would give
the tools of the triple transplant surgeons
top priority.

AT 8:18 A.M. ON DECEMBER
20, his triple transplant completed after
more than 17 hours in surgery, Daru
was moved back to the ICU. Less than 10
hours later, and in the same operating
room, Sarah’s triple transplant began.
As Jeevanandam had anticipated, the
heart portion of her surgery required
extra care, taking nearly twice as long
as Daru’s. The scar tissue that had built
up in her chest from past surgeries
made hunting for all the arteries and
veins like an archaeological dig. Just
as an archaeologist uses little brushes
to carefully clear away dust and debris,
Jeevanandam had to use special instru-
ments to tease apart the tissue to find the
arteries underneath. A single millimeter
miscalculation with a scalpel could cause
a nick in the heart itself.
Sarah’s liver posed special chal-
lenges, as well. Because she had been
on immunosuppressive drugs for most
of her life, her tissues were extremely
fragile. Baker had to work slowly and
precisely, taking painstaking care with
each incision and suture.
Becker was last up. And as the final
surgeon, she had to not only perform the
kidney transplant but also make sure
the heart and liver were still function-
ing, which meant keeping a close eye on
all of Sarah's vital signs. She also had
to navigate the minefield of drains and
chest tubes and pacemaker wires left
in place by the previous two surgeons.
Dislodge any of the tubes or drains and
she could miss internal bleeding. Detach

(Continued from page 85)


The Double Triple

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