A Perfect Match

When they first met in Hania, Crete in the summer of 1975, Les and Andrea Heard knew they were meant for each other.

Les, a 22-year-old Navy SEAL, was imbibing at a local sailor's haunt when his eyes landed on a lovely brunette bartender.

Twenty-six-year-old Andrea, tending bar for the summer with a group of vacationing girlfriends, had spent her formative years north of London.

She spoke in a soft British accent that young American sailors found appealing, especially Les, who did his best to get her attention.

"I used to go to the bar and hang out for hours waiting for her to get off," remembered Les, who ultimately won the heart of his English rose.

"I chased her and chased her until she finally caught me."

Les and Andrea were a perfect match, but like the best of couples, they were not exactly the same.

Les, who hailed from Wyoming, had an outspoken and gregarious personality, while Andrea was sweet and a little shy.

But neither doubted that they were made for each other.

When the summer ended, Andrea returned to England and Les finished the rest of his tour in the Navy.

Not long after they parted, Andrea received a letter from Les, which contained a $100 check and instructions to meet him in Norfolk, Va. when his tour ended.

Andrea arrived at the Norfolk airport at the appointed date.

She and Les drove in a rented Ford station wagon to Douglas, Wyo., where they were married on June 19, 1975.

Andrea and Les' love affair has always had a storybook quality, but in recent weeks, an equally fantastic subplot has emerged.

Les, who has a flair for the dramatic, summed it up this way:  "She stalked me on that island 34 years ago, knowing in 34 years she'd need a kidney."

Decline

Despite her chronic kidney disease, Andrea had always lived a fairly normal life.

She was active, healthy and devoted many volunteer hours to the Gulf County Humane Society and other organizations.

She never called attention to her disease, which had killed her father in his early 50s, and never allowed herself to be a burden.

Up until three years ago, most people would've never suspected anything was wrong with Andrea. But when her kidneys began to decline, everything changed.

 Andrea was no longer the active woman she once was. She felt sluggish and her memory faltered.

She climbed the stairs to her Cape San Blas home with difficulty and could no longer take her Jack Russell terrier, Napoleon, on walks without resting every quarter of a mile.

She had difficulty completing her daily crossword puzzles and took afternoon naps, which she deplored - "I'm active. I felt it was a waste of time."

Drugs and Diet

Andrea learned just how much her kidneys impacted her overall health.

The two fist-sized organs, located on either side of the spine, perform several life-sustaining functions.

They remove waste and toxins from the body, regulate fluid and chemicals essential to life and release hormones that regulate blood pressure and promote strong bones.

When kidney function declines, toxins build up in the blood, causing complications like high blood pressure, anemia, weak bones, nerve damage and severe fatigue.

Previously on blood pressure medication only, Andrea began taking handfuls of pills each day, bringing her prescription drug bill to $1,500 a month.

To slow further kidney decline, Andrea's doctors placed her on the highly restrictive renal diet.

The diet reduces one's intake of protein, phosphates, potassium and calcium - nutrients that declining kidneys cannot properly regulate.

Andrea could no longer eat potatoes, dairy products, chocolate, tomato sauce, nuts, beans and nearly everything green.

"I was very close."

Despite the medications and diet, Andrea's kidneys continued to decline.

Dialysis treatments, which simulate kidney function by removing waste and regulating body chemicals, are needed when patients lose 85 to 90 percent of kidney function.

Andrea's kidneys were functioning at 14 percent, bringing her dangerously close to "end stage kidney failure" and a lifetime of dialysis treatments.

"I was very close, within months, of going on dialysis," said Andrea.

Unable to accept any future for his wife that involved a dialysis machine, Les had a flash of inspiration.

While floating on an oil rig in the middle of the Black Sea, Les, a petroleum engineer who has traveled all over the globe chasing the black gold, called Andrea with a statement of purpose.

"We're taking charge of this," said Les. "We're going to find you a donor."

When Andrea placed her name on a donor list, she learned that it could be between two to six years before she received a kidney.

Wanting a faster solution, she and Les began investigating the live donor program at the Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville.

They were impressed by the clinic's high success rate and began asking Andrea's family members to donate a kidney.

Though Andrea's brother, Steve, was a genetic match, he had cysts on his kidneys and could not donate. Neither could her other relatives.

When prospects looked bleak, Les offered his kidney for consideration.

"On a whim, I said, ‘Well check me,' and it turned out that I was a very good match," said Les.

 Compatibility

Though it's fun to credit the transplant's success to Andrea's feminine wiles ("She stalked me on that island 34 years ago..."), good fortune played a pivotal role.

Kidney transplant matching is a rigorous science that examines the blood and tissues of potential donors and recipients.

A perfect, six-antigen tissue match occurs 25 percent of the time between siblings with the same parents, and in a random fashion in the general population.

Les and Andrea were a five-antigen match with compatible blood types - a winning combination for kidney transplants.

When the doctors performed a crossmatch test, examining cells and serum for possible rejection, the Heards' specimens played it cool.

"People say you're a match, but it's really you don't fight, you're compatible," said Andrea of  the couple's blood and tissue.

She could have just as easily been describing herself and Les.

At the Mayo Clinic, Les received a rigorous physical examination intended to rule out cancer or any health issues that might compromise the transplant.

All donors benefit from top-notch medical examinations paid for by the recipient's health insurance.

"You have to be a triathlete. They put you through so much testing," said Les.

Les had no problems, except for slightly high blood sugar levels, which he could lower through diet and exercise.

The Mayo Clinic set a date for the transplant for the fall of 2008.

A first-rate filter

Even fairy tales have setbacks.

While bicycling in Jacksonville to get in shape for surgery, Les swerved to avoid a low-hanging palm tree limb and injured his clavicle and ribs.

When doctors found blood clots on his lungs caused by the accident, they sent him back to the Cape with a prescription for blood thinners.

Fortunately, the medication did the trick. Andrea and Les returned to the Mayo Clinic in February, accompanied by neighbors Maggie and George Jones (no relation to "Possum"), who graciously volunteered to be their caretakers.

On Feb. 24, Andrea and Les slipped on their surgical gowns.

Les was up first, undergoing a laparoscopic donor nephrectomy, which removes the kidney via a small incision.

Because Les spent many years in cold swimming pools - he was a state champion in the breaststroke in high school before becoming a SEAL - his kidneys were surrounded by insulating fatty tissues.

Extracting the kidney took five hours, with Andrea's doctor finally stepping in to assist.

Les' kidney was then inserted into Andrea's abdomen (her other two kidneys were left in place), in a procedure that lasted nearly as long.

Within 12 minutes of the surgery, Andrea's new kidney began filtering.

Andrea's kidney function rose from 14 to 81 percent. Les' "big man kidney" filtered so efficiently, in fact, that Andrea became dehydrated and was instructed to drink lots of fluids.

 "I warned her that she may end up working for my kidney instead of the other way around," Les blogged on his Mayo Clinic Care Page, which received over 700 messages during the course of the couple's stay in Jacksonville.

Les had no pain from his procedure, noting that "the clavicle and ribs hurt much worse."

Two days later, Les left the hospital for his Jacksonville rental house to recuperate. Andrea joined him two days later, on the birthday of their late son, Chris.

Chris Heard and 11 fellow students were killed on the morning of Nov. 18, 1999 while constructing the fourth tier of a 40-foot-tall bonfire at Texas A&M University.

The tragedy, which received national attention, drew the couple to the Cape, with its beautiful beaches and healing sunshine.

Les and Andrea wished Chris a happy birthday on their blog and asked for prayers for their son, Jason, an Air Force captain serving with the Bolar squadron in Afghanistan.

After five weeks of post-surgery observation, Andrea celebrated her 61^st birthday during her last night in Jacksonville.

She indulged in a treat once forbidden on the renal diet - a slice of death by chocolate cake.

When she blew out the candle, she told Les she'd already gotten her wish.

A Birthday Gift

Now at home, Andrea is thriving.

She feels more energetic than she has in years, and her mind is sharper than ever. She attacks the morning crossword puzzle and looks forward to resuming her volunteer activities.

Her appetite has improved, and she has enjoyed sampling all the foods previously banned under the renal diet, like pizza and Mexican food.

"She eats like a truck driver," said Les, who has joked that they will soon return to the Mayo Clinic to have a band installed around her stomach.

Since leaving Jacksonville, Andrea has shown no signs of kidney rejection. She will remain on a maintenance dose of the anti-rejection medication, Prograf, for the rest of her life.

Les is also doing well. Having gotten himself into great shape pre-transplant, he is even more mindful of his health.

He notes that donors as a population live longer and healthier lives than non-donors because of their renewed commitment to healthy living.

Both are now outspoken advocates of live donor organ transplants.

"Waiting for any medical system to look after you is not enough," said Les. "You have to be proactive."

"I want to let people know you don't have to just wait and get on dialysis," added Andrea, who credits the transplant with restoring her quality of life.

Around her neck, Andrea wears a charm given to her by Les on her 61^st birthday.

In his final days in Jacksonville, Les sought out a jeweler to create the perfect birthday gift.

Though the unorthodox idea took some time to explain, the jeweler finally got it right.

The gold charm, shaped like a kidney, bears a four-letter inscription.

Not love, but life. The love is implied.