The gift of life: a kidney transplant solidifies the bond between two fraternity brothers

It was like any other day at work for Anthony Whitney. That was until he ate lunch, and became dizzy as he walked back to his desk." I thought it was something I had eaten," he says of that day in 2001. "But it got worse and worse."

In fact, it got so bad that the then 29-year-old engineer from Virginia finally decided to go to a nearby outpatient emergency center. During the course of the next two days, Whitney's life would change forever. He not only found out that his blood pressure was 180 over 110, but that his creatinine level, which measures the level of toxins in the blood, was about three times the normal limit. In a sinister sequence of events, his high blood pressure had weakened his kidneys to the point where they were on the verge of completely shutting down.

With the news of his health weighing heavily on his heart, and with nowhere to really turn, Whitney picked up the telephone. "The first person I called was Scott," he says.

Little did Whitney know that his call to Scott Johnson, his college fraternity brother and best friend, would not only provide a shoulder to lean on, but would affirm the boundless nature of true friendship.

The two had shared life's ups and down ever since they met while students at Virginia State University in 1989. Both were members of Kappa Alpha Psi, and had developed a bond of brotherhood that lasted throughout college. And even after graduation, the two talked several times a week. But this was much deeper than guy-talk about the latest female--and it was getting deeper by the day.

Over the next several months, Whitney took medication to strengthen his kidneys, but his creatinine level continued to rise to 15 times the normal level. Whitney had no energy. He was going days without urinating. In April 2004, the doctors, who were amazed that he was even walking, told Whitney that his only choice was to be placed on a dialysis machine, which would serve the same function as his kidneys, cleaning the toxins out of his body.

The newly engaged 34-year-old was told that his three-day-a-week, four-hour-a-day regimen would work for a while, but he really only had two options--a transplant or death. Whitney was placed on the kidney transplant waiting list, joining some 87,000 other Americans. Blacks comprise 35 percent of the people on the transplant list, yet make up only 12 percent of donors. This schism, exacerbated by the fact that Black organs are better matches for Blacks, has created a longer waiting time for African-Americans, and has resulted in a higher rate of death among Blacks on the list.

Whitney knew his chance of receiving a kidney from the list was slim. His fiancee Christina was tested. She was not a match. His sister was tested. She was a match, but blood incompatibility made her unsuitable to donate. "I didn't know what to do, so I just got on my knees and prayed," he says." And when I got up I felt a sense of relief, and I knew God would bring me through it."

What Whitney didn't know was that Johnson, who had taken him to the dialysis center for his first treatment, had gone to get tested for compatibility. "Before I got back to the dialysis center, they had called me and told me that I was a match. The first question they asked me was, 'Are you two related?' Out of a 7-point scale, I was a 6. They said normally you're only that high if you are a blood relative."

Johnson and the surgeons decided on a date for the transplant. It was only then that he called Whitney to tell him. While grateful for the extraordinary gesture of brotherhood, Whitney told Johnson that he couldn't accept his kidney." I didn't want Scott to do anything else for me," says Whitney. But Johnson already had made up his mind. And the surgery was performed. Other than Johnson's 36-hour fever, the transplant went off without a hitch." I felt my energy level came back immediately," says Whitney, who has to take anti-rejection medicine four times a day for the rest of his life.

One year after the life-saving surgery, Whitney, 34, still finds himself asking himself how he can repay someone who gave him the gift of life." I think about that a lot," he says. "It's hard to pay somebody back who gave you life. Scott doesn't worry about receiving anything back. He's a giver. He's is a helper. He's always been there for me. I can't really do anything but say 'thank you', and thank God for Scott. And that's all I can do."

For 35-year-old Johnson, that's more than enough. "All he had to give me was what I saw at his wedding. I saw the old Anthony. That was payment enough for me. When you see a man dance like he danced at his reception, and you haven't seen him dance like that in three years, that's all I had to see. I sat back and watched him enjoy himself. He was back to the person I know. That was enough for me."

COPYRIGHT 2005 Johnson Publishing Co.
COPYRIGHT 2005 Gale Group