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"The doctor agreed he would probably not be alive in September. He was given a 40% of making it though surgery."
Submitted by: Nancy D-T, Council Bluffs, LA
My brother, Tom, was a blue baby born in 1940. The doctor told my mother, just make him comfortable. My mother, being an RN knew what Tom was up against. One day, probably in early 1946, she read an article, about the "Blue Baby" surgery of Drs. Taussig and Blalock. An anonymous donation was received, an appointment and plans were made to travel to Baltimore, even though there was a pending railroad strike. Shortly before the appointment time, Tom was exposed to the measles. Mom called Johns Hopkins and explained the situation. They misunderstood and thought he had measles. They cancelled the appointment. Mom got the letter, with the cancellation and the new appointment, in the mail the day before they were to leave. She thought, "what if this letter had come tomorrow, we would be gone." She threw the letter in the furnace; did not even tell my dad. When they arrived, of course, there was no appointment. The new appointment had been set for September, 3 months away. Daddy pleaded for them to just look at him. He told them, "I will not have a little boy to bring back in September." (He knew they would also not have the money to return in September.) The doctor examined him and scheduled his surgery within the week. The doctor agreed he would probably not be alive in September. He was given a 40% of making it though surgery. When he came out of surgery, he was in the same shape as some of those when they went in, but he lived. (He still had a hole inside his heart) His skin color was still dark, and he had club fingers and slightly blue lips, but he could walk and run. As he grew to be a teen, he was one "mean" dancer. He would make the house shake. Tom survived bacterial endocarditis, in the 60s. He survived open-heart surgery at the age of 28, in Rochester, MN, March 1969. Because of Vivien Thomas, Dr. Taussig and Dr. Blalock, I was able to know my brother. My children knew and loved him. The youngest one now works in Surgical Research. I am eternally grateful to these doctors. Tom left us, very suddenly, June 15, 1970. He was the longest-lived of any of the children who were at Johns Hopkins at the time he was there. We had always said, when Tom died we hoped that he would suffer no pain and not be alone. Our wish was granted. Tom, we still miss you. See: tinchicken.com click on the book called Tin's Life. The page is simply named Tom.
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