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Jul. 31, 2005
Archive | Read 1984 articles on Matthews
Charlotte Observer articles about Vann Matthews from 1984.
Heart-Lung Transplant Provided Man With Unexpected, Precious Gift Of Time
By TISH STOKER
Gastonia Bureau
GASTONIA Heart-lung transplant recipient Vann Matthews knows a lot about fighting and gambling.
Now, Matthews says he's ready to learn about something new; living without battling death.
"It would be hard to say I was bored because I'm so glad to be alive, but it's strange to have time again. I had to just take one day at a time for so long. I figured if I could just make just two days more, just three days more," Matthews, 22, said in an interview at the home he shares with his mother, Annabelle Royster, and stepfather, David Royster.
The former Gaston County track and football star began battling a one-in-a-million disease in 1981.
The disease, primary pulmonary hypertension, constricts and damages blood vessels in the lungs, causing the heart to overwork and swell. It has no known cure.
Armed with determination, Matthews defied by more than a year the six month odds doctors gave him for survival.
On Dec. 17 a long-awaited donor made possible the lifesaving heart-lung transplant at Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore.
After a four-month recuperation and more surgery to adjust stomach problems, Matthews and his mother are back in their suburban Gastonia home after two years in a Maryland apartment and the hospital.
Matthews said he rises about 8 a.m., exercises about 20 minutes on his stationary bike to regain muscle tone, eats breakfast and rests before going out with friends. Eating still upsets his stomach because of the surgery, and he said adding weight to his current 118 pounds is a priority before he can make many plans.
"I prayed, I fussed and cussed a few times. It made me angry, but just a few times. I'd think, 'Maybe I'll just go to bed and not wake up this time.' But for some reason I just couldn't give up. I said, 'No, there's got to be a reason.' And I still believe that," he said.
Matthews is one of only 40 heart-lung transplant recipients in the world, and he said he doesn't know how many have survived since the surgery was first performed in 1981. Matthews and his mother consider the operation a success.
"It was a difficult thing, because he couldn't really get involved too much with the other transplant patients. They'd be waiting for hearts, or kidneys or other organs a couple of months and then they'd be gone (home). There was nobody who was around as long as Vann was," Annabelle Royster said.
The joys of returning to normal life so far are simple ones, Matthews said. Driving his new gray-blue Datsun 300ZX to cruise Gastonia with friends home from college, for example. The car was a gift his mother had promised him while he awaited the transplant.
Matthews hasn't made any long-range plans.
"Getting a real job, or even working in a family business, would be good. It will be good to get well enough to think of that, but it's hard when I still have to rest so much," he said.
His continued treatment includes several drugs to combat organ rejection, blood clotting and swelling. He also will return to Hopkins every three months for checkups.
The most difficult time was the long, uncertain wait for a donor, he said.
"But there's no way to even question or measure whether it's worth it. When it's your only chance, you go for it and you hang on as long as you can for it," Matthews said.
22-Year-Old Awaits Transplant That Could Save His Life
By TISH STOKER
GASTONIA High stakes are not new to Vann Matthews.
It was a one-in-a-million disease that struck down the former Gaston County track and football star in 1981.
He has since defied the six-months-to-a-year odds doctors put on his survival.
And today, life hinges on another long shot.
Mostly bedridden, dependent for breath on oxygen tubes through his nose, the 22-year-old awaits a rare donor match that will allow the heart-lung transplant that could save his life.
Even then, his chances at survival are about 60-40.
"The worst is just the not knowing, wondering every day if this will be the day. But after a year you can't dwell on it all the time. Just hope of being well someday gets me through. And I pray," Matthews said in a telephone interview from Towson, Md.
He and his mother, Annabelle Royster, have for the past 14 months rented an apartment in Towson to await the call from nearby Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore that could mean life for him.
Matthews had primary pulmonary hypertension, a rare disease that constricts and damages blood vessels in the lungs, then overworks the heart and causes it to swell.
The disease has no known cause and just one known cure a heart-lung transplant. Only 37 have been performed in the world since the procedure was developed three years ago.
The disease caught Matthews by surprise. Then a 5-foot-11, 165-pound 17-year-old athlete, Matthews initially ignored the fact that he began to get winded running short laps in high school at Gaston Day School.
By his freshman year at Lees McRae College at Banner Elk, Royster said, he became winded climbing a flight of steps, and his lips turned blue from the effort. Gastonia doctors diagnosed the rare ailment in 1981.
By 1982, he was unable to walk or attend college. Doctors in Gastonia, in Chapel Hill and at Johns Hopkins said the transplant was his only hope. By then he weighed 125 pounds and had lost most his muscle tone.
If finding a single organ donor is a needle-in-a-haystack search, locating a heart-lung donor could well be the search for that needle's eye.
Matthews's cardiologist, Dr. Stephen Achuff says the donor must be 35 or younger and have Matthews O-positive blood type and a heart and lungs virtually the same size as the youth's.
Lungs can only remain a few hours outside the body of a donor, so a transplant means the entire body must be donated and available immediately. Potential donors and their families are generally more hesitant to donate whole bodies than single organs, Royster said.
People donate other organs but hesitate to donate hearts because they attach more emotional or spiritual significance to the organs, she said.
Achuff, however, says the problem lies with doctors who fail to ask, when potential donors are dying, for sorely needed organ donations.
Even when the organs arrive and a match is made, bacteria-prone lungs become infected easily and can prevent the transplant.
"It's very, very frustrating. Three times they have had the heart and lungs; once we even went up to the hospital to prepare, and then it couldn't go though because the (donor) lungs had become diseased," Royster said.
Matthews's surgeon Dr. Bruce Reitz, has done seven heart-lung transplants four of them successful.
Another Johns Hopkins patient also is waiting for a heart-lung donor, Achuff said, and about a dozen others are in a similar plight nationwide.
Royster said the four-hour, $70,000 transplant and man of Matthews's medical bills are covered by insurance but that travel costs for the family and rental of the apartment are high.
Matthews, who can only leave the apartment for weekly hospital visits and periodical treatment to clear the fluid from his lungs, said he stays busy listening to music and lectures on tape and by playing Trivial Pursuit and other games.
"I just miss being a normal person, and it doesn't matter a whole lot where I am," Matthews said.
Get-well banners and cards from dozens of friends back home ease the waiting time, Matthews said. His stepfather, girlfriend and brothers and sisters visit often on weekends.
"If I live¼I'd like to just be able to take care of myself and work a little bit," said Matthews, a former business and broadcast major. "I think I'd like to help people, maybe in social work or physical therapy. I'd like to help others who need transplants because help's needed, and I know a lot about the patient's point of view.
1 In A Million
Star Athlete Surviving Rare Disease
By TISH STOKER
GASTONIA Vann Matthews know a lot about fight and gambling.
And now he's ready to learn something new; living without a constant battle with death.
The former Gaston County track and football star went head-to-head with a one-in-a-million disease in 1981.
Armed with determination, he defied by more than a year the six-months limit doctors put on his survival.
On Dec. 17, a long-awaited donor made possible a life-saving heart-lung transplant at Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore.
After a four-month recuperation and more surgery to adjust stomach problems, Matthews and his mother, Annabelle Royster, are back in their suburban Gastonia home after two years in a Maryland apartment and the hospital.
Matthews said he gets up about 8 a.m., exercises about 20 minutes on his stationary bike to regain muscle tone, eats breakfast and rests before going out with friends. Meals still upset his stomach because of the surgery, and he says gaining above his present weight of 118 pounds is a priority before he can make many future plans.
"I prayed, I fussed and cussed a few times. It made me angry, but just a few times. I'd think, 'Maybe I'll just go to bed and not wake up this time,' but for some reason I just couldn't give up. I said, 'No, there's got to be a reason,' and I still believe that," he said.
Matthews's battle has been with primary pulmonary hypertension, a rare disease that constricts and damages blood vessels in the lungs, then overworks the heart and causes it to swell. The disease has no known cause, and the heart-lung transplant is its only cure.
He is one of only 40 such transplant recipients in the world, and said he doesn't know how many have survived since the surgery was first performed in 1981. Matthews and Royster consider the operation a success.
"It was a difficult thing, because he couldn't really get involved too much with the other transplant patients. They'd be waiting for hearts, or kidneys or other organs a couple of months and then they'd be gone. There was nobody who was around as long as Vann was," Royster said.
The joys of returning to normal life are simple ones, Matthews said. It's fun just to drive his new gray-blue Datsun 300 ZX to cruise Gastonia with friends home from college, for example.
"When he was waiting for the transplant, I made the terrible mistake of saying as soon as he got it over with he could get a new car. He didn't forget," Royster said.
Friends Jim Henry, Pete Currence and Alice Pharr have remained in close contact throughout his illness and recuperation, Matthews said. He's looking forward to swimming parties and workouts in the backyard pool and getting strong enough to consider going back to school.
"Getting a real job, or even working in a family business would be good. It will be good to get well enough to think of that, but it's hard when I still have to rest so much," he said.
Matthews's continued treatment includes several drugs to combat organ rejection, blood clotting and swelling. He also will return to Hopkins every three months for checks.
Most difficult in his battle was the long, uncertain wait for a donor, he said. Royster added that it takes time for the reality of becoming a transplant recipient to sink in.
"But there's no way to even question or measure whether it's worth it. When it's your only chance, you go for it and you hang on as long as you can for it," Matthews said.
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