Sulphur Springs woman gives stranger needed kidney

Arkansas Democrat-Gazette/MITCHELL PE MASILUN Tammy Hendren, left, and Bke Millwee, have a moment together Jan. 8 in front of UAMS in Little Rock.
Arkansas Democrat-Gazette/MITCHELL PE MASILUN Tammy Hendren, left, and Bke Millwee, have a moment together Jan. 8 in front of UAMS in Little Rock.

— Tammy Hendren's insomnia helped save Bke Millwee's life. The restless Hendren opened up her Facebook page just after midnight June 26. She saw a freshly posted message from someone she'd met at her son's wedding years before, "the only guest I got to know well enough to become Facebook friends with," Hendren said.

The acquaintance, Kim Perkins of Little Rock, had a longtime friend in the same city dying for lack of a working kidney. The message asked that someone -- anyone -- consider becoming a living organ donor.

If Hendren, 52, had clicked the same Facebook page after a good night's sleep, incoming posts from closer friends and her extensive family would have pushed this plea down the page -- probably beyond the point for reading, Hendren said.

"We feel very strongly that God orchestrated this," she said of her family. "I knew as soon as I read the post that I 100 percent wanted to do this and that I would be a match."

The Sulphur Springs resident, wife of state Sen. Jim Hendren, requested a packet from the University of Arkansas for Medical Sciences living donor program the next day. The surgery took place at UAMS Hospital on Dec. 14.

Millwee, 60 found out she was diabetic before she was a teenager. Like many in her family, she has high blood pressure. She managed these conditions most of her life and is a registered nurse. Her kidneys began suffering serious damage in 2003 despite treatment and precautions. Then the damage leveled off -- until two years ago.

Her condition rapidly deteriorated from there, she said in a telephone interview in which her husband, Pat, joined. By the time of the transplant, 13 percent of her kidneys' function remained. Dialysis kept her alive.

Five willing donors applied on Millwee's behalf -- none closer than Sulphur Springs.

"They start with the closest person, geographically," Millwee said. "They only evaluate one person at a time, which you understand if you've seen what you have to go through to be a donor. It's an extraordinarily complex process. They turn you inside out and upside down. If there's anything wrong with you, they'll find it. If there's anything wrong, if you're not in great health, they go to the next one."

Factors such as blood type, age and weight can eliminate a prospect immediately, she said.

"It's hard to put into words what it means for someone to consider doing this," Pat Millwee said. "It's a remarkably, indescribably invaluable gift."

Hendren was humble.

"I have grandchildren. If I was in a situation where I was not going to see my grandchildren grow up, I hope someone would do this for me," she said.

Donors must be in outstanding health to make sure they can fully recover and because any surgery has risks, said Dr. James Chon of the kidney transplant program at UAMS, the only such program in Arkansas, he said.

He was hired from Chicago in June largely to increase the number of living donor transplants, he said in a telephone interview. Efforts to increase donors are so new, the program does not expect to have a functioning web page until February, he said.

Receiving a kidney after the untimely death of a donor will take hours under the best of circumstances.

"The kidney will start to shut down. With a living donor, the operating rooms are right next door. It's a matter of few yards, not miles. A transplanted kidney from a living donor will start producing urine right away," he said.

The anxiety relief for the person awaiting a transplant is another factor when a living donor steps forward, Chon said. The average wait for a transplant in Arkansas is two and a half years -- yet there is no advance planning.

"Someone needing a kidney transplant could wake up in the morning and not know that he or she was going to be going into surgery that day," Chon said.

Transplants from deceased donors have to take place at whatever random time the organ's available.

"If you happen to be on antibiotics that day for some reason, you'll have to turn that kidney down and wait for another," he said. If you have a living donor, the surgery is simply rescheduled.

Millwee and her husband described life for someone awaiting a deceased donor.

"You wake up and make sure your cellphone is fully charged," Pat Millwee said. "You make sure a bag is packed every day. We were fortunate our daughter lives in Springdale because that's about as far as they let you travel. They want you near the hospital at all times."

Sulphur Springs is wedged into the corner of Arkansas against Oklahoma and Missouri. Hendren herself is a native of Texas, still flying that state's flag in her yard along with the Arkansas and American flags. She landed in Arkansas after a whirlwind romance with a young Air Force candidate, which resulted in a 31-year marriage to the man who is now majority leader of the state Senate.

Jim Hendren found out in a text message his wife was set on donating an organ to a stranger, Tammy Hendren said.

"I didn't tell anyone for a while, because it's not even possible if the tests don't show viability," she said.

Jim Hendren was deployed in the Mideast late last summer in his duty to the Missouri Air National Guard by the time Tammy was far enough along in the process to know her and Millwee's blood types matched.

"Modern-day military wives make decisions without out their husbands all the time. We have to," Tammy Hendren said. "It was September before we were far enough along to know that this was probably going to work out. We started talking to our kids, closest friends and parents."

Her family and friends supported her, she said. First contact with Millwee, through Facebook messages, didn't start until October.

Donors and recipients who are not related normally do not meet, the Millwees and Hendren said in separate interviews. Chon confirmed this. Hendren, Millwee and their families both felt strongly they should.

"I understand why the hospital doesn't want you to know each other," Bke Millwee said. "A donor could want to back out, and having met the person you were donating to could create a lot of anxiety. But we all believed, our family and the Hendrens, that if it didn't work out it was just not meant to be. This was going to be God's decision, and we were going to accept it, whatever it was."

Since 2003, her touchstone was Philippians 4:6, Millwee said: "Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God."

"If Tammy had backed out, I would have been disappointed but at peace with it," Millwee said. Receiving someone else's living organ is not something anyone can demand as a right, she said.

Hendren never had any doubts, she said, and she disliked the deliberate pace.

"It's a long process with tons and tons of blood work and testing of your heart and other organs," Hendren said. "You have to be 100 percent healthy from head to toe. I understand that. They also had me talk to chaplains and to two psychologists. They want to be absolutely sure you want to do this and know how this will affect you.

"Before they give you that last shot as you're getting ready to be wheeled into surgery, they are still asking you: Are you 100 percent sure you want to do this?" she said.

Caution and surety are fine things, but the checking and re-checking got tedious, Hendren said. She knew what to expect after the operation and was warned of almost all the side effects she experienced. There's also a support group of living donors who answered her few remaining questions and provided constant reassurance.

"This is no joke," Hendren said of the surgery and its aftermath. "It's like getting hit by a bus, with six weeks of recovery at least. After that, you're barred from ever doing some things that I'd never want to do anyway, like skydiving."

The first kidney transplant in Arkansas took place in 1964, according to a history of the program at UAMS. The Millwees said they were fortunate Bke's took place decades later.

"Anti-rejection drugs are 10 times better than they used to be," helping the body accept the new organ, Pat Millwee said.

Procedures have evolved too, Bke Millwee said.

"I have three kidneys now, two of which will shut down and not function at all once the healthy one takes over," she said. "They used to take the other kidneys out, but that made the surgery such a bigger deal. The newer method leaves them."

Hendren became impatient with people who called her a hero.

"This is so doable," she said of the transplant. "If you're willing to take about four weeks out of your life for the preparation and then have a good, long recovery, you can literally save someone's life. That's wonderful, but it's not a long-term effort.

"You want to know what a hero is? It's a couple at my church who have adopted a couple of kids, one of whom is nonverbal and autistic. That's commitment."

The Hendrens and the Millwees have become close, they said.

"I feel like I lost a kidney but gained a family," Hendren said.

Kidney transplants

In Arkansas, about 20 to 25 percent of kidney transplants are from living donors -- roughly half the 40 to 55 percent typical in other states.

A kidney taken from a deceased donor will last seven to 10 years after the transplant. One from a living donor will last 15 to 20 years.

Source: Staff report

General News on 02/01/2017