The Patient

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The Patient

Sitting in his hospital bed at the University of Southern California, tethered to IVs, Robert Hickey thinks about his life, and laughs. He has no complaints or angry words. If he were to die this instant, he wouldn't carry a shred of bitterness to the gates, he promises a visitor.

"It's easier to be negative, but what do you want to focus on? Is the pain bad enough to keep you from laughing or having a good time? Look at your life, and enjoy it."

photo Gina Comparini
Robert Hickey received a living donation--a liver transplant--from his wife, Phyllis in July 2002. In March 2003, he was still recovering from complications.

Hickey, 47, of Arizona, has had to return to his USC hospital bed many times in the past nine months, dealing with complications from the liver transplant he received from his wife, Phyllis, in July 2002.

Hickey says Phyllis' liver had many bile ducts and doctors had to figure out how to make it work inside his body. Then he contracted a bacterial infection and his skin turned black. He spent days in the intensive care unit at USC and endured panic attacks when he couldn't make sense of what was going on with his body. Then his bile ducts started to plug up. At one point, doctors thought he might need another transplant, he says.

But slowly, he has regained his strength and is now hoping to return to Arizona soon so he can get back to work on his and Phyllis' dream home there.

Hickey's liver problems trace back to 1973, when, at the age of 17, he was hospitalized after a severe auto accident.

"I was 6 feet tall and now I'm 5'9," Hickey says. "The doctors had to remove a 3-inch chunk from my femur. It was just crushed."

While he was in the hospital, Hickey received a blood transfusion. More than 20 years later, Hickey was diagnosed with hepatitis C after he tried to donate blood. The illness that was attacking his liver was linked to the transfusion he received in 1973.

Hickey continued to work and travel until pains in his side, "fuzzy-headedness" and other symptoms associated with liver failure slowed him down.

One way to save his life was with a liver transplant. Phyllis, who he had married three years before, turned out to be an eligible donor who could donate part of her liver.

Being a living donor was Phyllis' idea. But Hickey did not agree to it right away.

"I worried about our kids," he says. "I figured, we already have one person dying. Why do we need another?"

As with all surgical procedures, removing part of a person's liver is not without risks, says Dr. Nicolas Jabbour, of the USC liver transplant team that treated Hickey.

There are at least three known deaths out of more than 1,000 U.S. living donor liver transplant cases, Jabbour says. The most common complications are wound infection and hernia. The most serious complications include bile leaks and pancreatitis. Living donors rarely suffer from liver failure after donation, which would require a liver transplant, he says.

After thinking about the procedure and talking it over with Phyllis, Hickey changed his mind. On July 10, 2002, the two of them went into surgery.

Since then Phyllis has recovered and "is doing wonderful," Hickey says.

And Hickey also doesn't hold a grudge toward the anonymous person whose blood infected him with hepatitis 30 years ago. After all, if that person would not have donated blood, Hickey might not have survived the auto accident, he says.

"I got 30 years to live because of that blood," Hickey says. "I have done everything I ever set out to do. I have achieved every dream. I have no complaints."