Transplant patient's family support, care 'created a true miracle'

Feb. 04--Each year, when the Walsh family marks the anniversary of the bone-marrow transplant that changed their lives, they don't just celebrate how well things turned out for their Bridget, who was 8 the first time she faced death.

Steve and Lisa Walsh recall the agony they felt 25 years ago when they learned their daughter had a blood disorder that was so bad, doctors said it would have been better if she had leukemia.

At least they could treat that.

The Walshes also remember others they met along their journey--children who never made it home from the hospital or young adults who'd been left with lingering disabilities and impairments.

Somehow, their daughter survived, and the Walshes felt blessed.

She'd been able to attend college, earn two master's degrees and become a social worker, helping patients who were dying or dealing with long-term illnesses. She got married, lived in Philadelphia for a while and moved to Spotsylvania County almost three years ago.

Bridget's life hasn't been easy, but she always kept going, her family said.

"She's had a tough row, and it's kind of been one thing after another from the beginning," her mother said. "We're just so grateful that she's still here. But for the grace of God she wouldn't be."

'BUBBLY LITTLE GIRL'

Bridget did more than survive, she thrived.

Even after she'd lost her hair to treatments as a little girl, she smiled through the pink mask she wore to protect her from germs. She covered her baldness with a black hat, adorned with a red rose, and clutched her American Girl doll "Molly" to her side.

A doctor who remembers her from 25 years ago recalled the way Bridget was "such an energetic and bubbly little girl. She just took everything in stride, even given the fact she had a bad disease," said Dr. Gita Massey, associate professor of pediatrics at Children's Hospital of Richmond, part of VCU Health.

Bridget's big brother, Brendan, saved her life with his bone marrow. The two didn't get along then; she said he was a bully who wished he'd been an only child, and he called her a bratty sister.

But he was the perfect match as a donor, and even though the transplant wasn't an everyday procedure in 1993, everything clicked.

Bridget would face cancer again, 10 years down the road, but once more, she would "come through it all with grace," her mother said.

She would even defy the dire warning doctors issued when she was a child, that because she'd had so much radiation and chemotherapy, she probably wouldn't be able to have children.

She and her husband, Richard, certainly were surprised--make that "shocked"--when she got pregnant with their first son, James, who's 5. He was followed by two more boys, Henry, 3, and Peter, 1.

The three are the Walshes' only grandchildren. Seeing them romp through the Walsh home in Idlewild and how well Bridget is doing is "all the more sweet" given everything the family went through, said Bridget's younger sister, Kelsey.

The director of the bone-marrow transplant program at VCU Massey Cancer Center in Richmond would agree that 33-year-old Bridget Walsh Daw and her loved ones have plenty to celebrate.

"There's no question that she and her drive and her family's support and her medical care have created a true miracle for her," said Dr. John McCarty. "It's a wonderful story."

'HOW CAN THIS BE WORSE'

In December 1992, Bridget was a second-grader, being treated for strep throat she couldn't shake. Another infection followed, and she had bruises that wouldn't heal and a rash on her joints.

Lisa Walsh was an at-home mom with four children: Brendan, 10; Bridget, 8; Trevor, 6; and Kelsey, 2. The day Bridget got really sick, Lisa Walsh was watching her sister's two children, so she trudged to the emergency room of Mary Washington Hospital with six kids in tow.

She's grateful the on-call doctor looked past the strep throat and bladder infection and ordered blood work. It revealed dangerously low levels.

"I had 2,000 platelets, and I was supposed to have 250,000," Bridget said.

The mother and daughter were sent to Richmond, to what's now VCU Medical Center. Her condition was diagnosed as aplastic anemia, a rare blood disorder in which the body stops making healthy blood cells.

Bridget started getting daily transfusions.

Meanwhile, her father was on the other side of the world as a military adviser in El Salvador. The Marine was in such a remote area, he got to the American Embassy--and a telephone--once a month by helicopter.

Lisa Walsh was able to get an emergency message to him, and a Salvadoran flew to the jungle to deliver it. When the couple was able to talk, he learned the "god-awful" diagnosis.

The mother couldn't comprehend the doctor's statement, that her daughter would have been better off with leukemia than asplastic anemia.

"I said, 'Wait a minute. Everybody I know with leukemia has died.' How can this be worse?"

'LIGHT YEARS AHEAD'

There were fewer treatments for Bridget's condition in those days, Massey said, and the only cure was a bone-marrow transplant.

The Richmond facility had started doing them five years earlier. In January 1993, when Bridget had her transplant, the preferred method was to harvest the marrow from the cavities of the bones, then transplant them into the recipient, McCarty said.

Since then, technology has changed to the point that various types of stem cells and blood cells can be processed, and less radiation and chemotherapy is used than in Bridget's time, McCarty said. DNA testing has improved matching and helped doctors identify more potential threats to successful transplants.

"We are light years ahead of where we were back then," he said. "Even from 10 years ago, we're light years ahead."

But in 1993, the process consisted of planting "seed cells" from Brendan's marrow, which eventually grew and replaced Bridget's malfunctioning cells. The fear wasn't that Bridget's system would reject Brendan's transplanted marrow, but that his cells would try to kick out hers and create new complications for her immune system.

Doctors used needles this long, Brendan said, holding out his hands the same way fishermen do to describe the one that got away.

After the transplant, Bridget spent a year and a half on homebound instruction, away from friends and school, but she got better.

And stronger.

She got involved with sports and the student newspaper at Fredericksburg Academy. She spent two years researching her senior project, which culminated with a bone-marrow donor drive.

She was ready to head off to the University of Virginia when a routine dental visit changed everything.

'A POINT OF PRIDE'

Spotsylvania dentist E. Thomas Elstner noticed a large lump on her neck and encouraged her to see a doctor.

She went back to Richmond and was diagnosed with thyroid cancer. The gland was removed along with 27 lymph nodes.

The thyroid is sensitive to radiation, Massey said, and Bridget probably developed cancer there as a result of treatments she received before the bone-marrow transplant.

Her thyroid surgery was Aug. 15, 2003, and she was expected at U.Va. eight days later. She had a horseshoe-shaped scar from ear to ear, a puffy face and no voice, but she still started class on time. Her mother had to call her roommate and explain the situation.

"It was almost a point of pride that I was not going to be sidelined by this," Bridget said. "We never even discussed taking a semester off."

Her voice returned after several months, and she was declared cancer-free after treatments of radioactive iodine pills. She got degrees in social work and bioethics--the ethics of medicine and health care--and started working with patients encountering life-and-death situations.

"Being faced with that twice," she said, "it wasn't something I felt sheepish about talking about with people."

She worked until she and her husband had their second son, and they moved back to the Fredericksburg area.

'LIKE A MIRACLE'

Each year on Jan. 8, Lisa Walsh celebrates the transplant anniversary with dinner and roses: red for Brendan, white for Bridget.

The family wants to do more this year because of the 25th anniversary. They'll gather a team to walk for a foundation that supports research of childhood cancer, and Bridget would like to donate 10 inches of her hair for a wig for children going through treatment.

The family also wants to establish a scholarship through the Community Foundation. Education is a big part of the Walsh makeup, and Bridget and her siblings, parents and husband want to help those who may have suffered cognitive problems as a result of aggressive cancer treatments.

This year, especially, they'll be grateful for all the things that happened to Bridget during the scariest times of her life--and more importantly, for all the things that didn't.

"She's had to deal with so much," said her brother, Trevor, "and for her to come through it all and then be able to have a family, it's like a miracle."

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