In Memory of My Friend and Fellow Transplant Warrior - David Young

by Sabine Miller

David went to heaven on February 13, 2020. He was at the ICU at Northwestern and I was so fortunate to have been able to visit him about 10 days prior. I was so nervous going there, not sure what to expect. He had gone to the ER a week earlier and was diagnosed with an almost complete blockage of the carotid artery. Doctors were concerned but optimistic. When I walked in, I was so happy to see him doing so well. Or so it seemed at the time. We had some really good laughs and talked about our families, our crazy children, our beloved transplant surgeon Dr. Fryer, old times, and where we would meet for lunch once he was out of this place. When I hugged him tightly and said goodbye to him, I had no doubt that we would be sitting at Hofbräuhaus in Rosemont a few months later. Sadly, it was our last goodbye. 

I met David, his wife Sheryl and their infant son Ryan a few weeks before my intestinal transplant in a small meeting room at Northwestern Memorial in June 2005. The social worker had asked my husband Dan and I if we would be willing to meet with another potential transplant patient. Of course we did! I felt scared and alone in the small bowel transplant world at the time (and still do at times) and to meet someone who was in need of such a rare procedure gave me hope and strength. David would receive his small bowel only a month after I received mine. From that point on, we were a tiny support group of 2 for the next 15 years. Our spouses became each other’s support group and even my Dad and David’s Mom - who have both passed away since - would support each other by trying to communicate in two different languages, smoking cigarettes outside the Marriott Residence Inn on Walton Street where David and I stayed for the first few weeks after our transplants. It was a crazy time but we both made it through and continued to support each other for years to come. We each had bumps in the road, David was definitely dealt the more difficult cards with hip replacements, dialysis, a kidney transplant and many more challenges. I admired him for his eternal optimism, his love for his family, friends and for life, their celebrations of life, their travels, and so much more. I never heard him complain about any of his health challenges. I drew tremendous strength from him in my own battles. I think that is why his death has affected me so deeply. He was the only person who really knew what it meant to have had a transplanted small bowel. Not always pretty conversations but we could talk openly and honestly about all the good, bad and ugly.  

David would have turned 50 this June and him and his family had great plans to celebrate this milestone. While David won’t be physically with them, I know that he is with Sheryl and Ryan wherever they may go. And I am sure he is so proud of how they have managed this incredible loss. 

February 13 is also my oldest daughter’s birthday. She turned 6 the day David passed away and it was a day of crazy emotions. There will be a little cupcake with a candle next to my daughter’s birthday cake in the future. We will honor David and I will be sure to tell her what a special person he was to me. 

During this unprecedented time, when a novel virus holds the world hostage, I’ve had some time to reflect on the basic things in life, what I really need versus what I think I need and what I’m grateful for. I’m grateful for having crossed paths with David and his family. I am thankful we were able to stay in touch throughout the years despite medical hiccups and spend many fun times together. I am beyond thankful that I was able to see him before he went into surgery and never regained consciousness, which happened just a few days before we could no longer visit loved ones at the hospital. I am thankful that Dan and I had the chance to attend David’s beautiful Celebration of Life at the end of February, when it was still ok to hang out with people who don’t live under the same roof. 

Thank you, David, for coming into my life. I will miss you.