Gifts of life

It's Family Weekend here at Penn, which means that our campus is overflowing with goofy dads, mother-daughter look-alikes and healthy bone-marrow donors.

There are a few families that I know aren't here today. One is Engineering sophomore Kevin Rakszawski's. Kevin is 19 and a pre-med in Bioengineering. He stands next to me in the Penn Band trumpet section, and unlike me, he can hit the high notes. He loves the Phillies and is positive about pretty much everything in life, including their eventual World Series dynasty.

At the end of September, Kevin found a lump on his neck and was diagnosed two days later with Stage IVB Hodgkin's lymphoma. A PET scan revealed areas of cancer in his neck, chest, abdomen and pelvis. He starts chemotherapy next Monday and has taken a leave of absence from Penn to focus on his recovery.

The other is my own family. My dad Neil is 51. He's a hairier, slightly more goofy, slightly less rhythmic version of Kevin. He looks a lot like the dads walking around campus this weekend, except he rolls his tube socks up to his knees, which my mom hates. He loves the Phillies and the Flyers. He reads X-rays all day long and collects Mad magazines. He's a local kid, just like Kevin. And slightly more than four years ago, my dad was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, which was in his neck, chest, abdomen and pelvis. He has gone through many grueling rounds of chemo and is resting at home.

I consider myself extremely lucky to be affiliated with Penn, and I'm sure you do, too. If you work or study here, or you have a relative who does, you're connected to a pretty wide network of Quakers. You share things like fight songs and traditions and camaraderie.

What if you shared your bone marrow, too? Each year, more than "50,000 new cases of lymphoma are diagnosed in the United States," says the National Marrow Donor Program, which tracks cases. Lymphoma is cancer of the lymphatic system, which is what both Kevin and my dad have. Bone-marrow transplants are often used to treat patients who cannot be cured with chemotherapy. Without a donor match, these patients will die.

Unfortunately, only "about one in four patients find a match in their own family" according to the Marrow Donor Program. This is why many patients need to look outside their immediate family for a donor. If you're between the ages of 18 and 60 and are in fairly good health, you are eligible to register with the program. All it takes is a simple blood test, and you're in the database until you turn 60. And unlike the Penn Fund, this drive doesn't require any donation on your part, except for a few drops of blood.

If you end up matching a patient who needs your bone marrow, you will go in for a simple same-day procedure. Your bone marrow will be transplanted into the patient's body, replacing unhealthy blood cells with healthy blood-forming ones. Joanne Hinkle, the coordinator for the Marrow Donor Program at Penn, says that "if there is a match [between the patient and the donor], the donor would be asked to have additional blood drawn for further testing. If indeed the donor is a good match, that donor may then be asked to donate his cells."

Most people are naturally worried about the pain involved. Kevin, who is tracking his lymphoma on a Web site he created shortly after his diagnosis, wrote about his own bone-marrow biopsy. "It was relatively painless!" he writes. "Afterwards, I felt a little discomfort when walking, but was shocked at how well I felt. I definitely expected it to be much worse."

Hinkle agrees. "I have spoken to past donors who tell me they would readily do it again in order to save a patient's life." she says.

Imagine how good you would feel if you matched someone in the marrow database and could save someone's life. And, when you think about it, a temporary ache is nothing compared to what a round of chemotherapy feels like.

It's Family Weekend here at Penn, and Kevin and my dad are both members of your extended Penn family. Please consider joining the National Marrow Donor registry -- and please don't hesitate to e-mail me for more detailed information. It can't be a coincidence that every medical diagram of the heart is always colored in red and blue.

Melody Joy Kramer is a senior English major from Cherry Hill, N.J. Perpendicular Harmony appears on Wednesdays.

Please note All comments are eligible for publication in The Daily Pennsylvanian.