Fighting Pediatric Disease: Not Just Kid Stuff

A Long Road Back to Grandma's

Brendan Griffith with his mom.

Brendan Griffith loves to bake. Among his specialties: Irish soda bread. He made one last St. Patrick’s Day with a little help from mom. Afterwards, the six-year-old and his family got ready to go to grandma’s house for a traditional holiday dinner, soda bread in tow. But first Brendan went upstairs to don a leprechaun costume, being careful not to dislodge his heart monitor.

Born with an underdeveloped heart, Brendan had three surgeries by age three. He’d gotten used to hauling around his monitor in a backpack, taking meds and fighting fatigue. But in March of 2003, during a scheduled catheterization, he experienced blood clotting and gastrointestinal complications. Doctors feared Brandon was in heart failure. Eventually he rallied but was placed on a transplant waiting list.

On this day, Brendan was feeling pretty good. En route to grandma’s house Anne Griffith’s cell phone rang. She’d been expecting a return call from heart transplant coordinator Pat Kane about Brendan’s medications. But Kane wasn’t calling about meds. She was telling Anne that a heart had just become available. Incredulous, Anne shared the news with the family, trying to stay focused on driving.

Brendan having fun.

After a brief visit with the family, the Griffiths, who live in Alexandria, Va., headed to Johns Hopkins Hospital. “We gotta go!” Brendan yelled. “I need my new heart!” He left his shoes at the door “for the leprechauns to fill with coins.” Then he put on his SpongeBob SquarePants slippers.

Dancing into the hospital, Brendan awaited his big moment. Little could he imagine the difficult road ahead. The surgery was long and complicated. It would take cardiac surgeon Luca Vricella and his associate two-and-a-half hours just to plow through scar tissue. Eight hours later, the new heart placed successfully, Brendan was wheeled into the recovery room.

Within days, Brendan suffered severe rejection. High antibodies from previous surgeries complicated his situation, despite the blood-filtering plasmapharesis he’d had the three previous months.

Day after interminable day in the ICU, Brendan got weaker. Severe nausea and diarrhea revisited him. He began to withdraw emotionally—he wouldn’t sleep; he rarely spoke. When he did, recalls Anne, he’d say things you wouldn’t expect to hear from a six-year-old, like: “I don’t want this. Look what it’s doing to my family.” Even his older brother and sister couldn’t cheer him up. Distraught, Anne wouldn’t leave Brendan’s side.

After 10 days and no improvement, doctors considered inserting an artificial heart. Then, one day, after a megadose of stronger meds, Brendan perked up. He was sent home a few days later. But within 24 hours he suffered another rejection episode. At last, after more than two months in the hospital, Brendan came home for good.

The Griffith Family.

He began physical therapy in August. By the time school started, Brendan’s health had improved dramatically. Intravenous steroids, and time, had helped.