California heart recipient plans to become doctor

LOMA LINDA, Calif. -- When a little boy and his dad died in a car wreck 20 years ago, the child's heart was transplanted into a sickly youngster who had been slowly dying of congestive heart failure.

Now it's time to return the favor.

At age 25, heart recipient Fernando Ramos is preparing to apply to medical schools so that he can become a children's heart specialist.

"I owe my mom. I owe the transplant family -- and every donor family," said Ramos, a Corona, Calif. resident. "Maybe more people will (become donors) by knowing my story."

Born with a weak heart, Ramos was hospitalized repeatedly at age 3. Doctors pumped the fragile, skinny boy full of medication to help his heart work.

"They told my parents right off the bat that (drug therapy) wasn't a long-term remedy and that sooner or later I would need a heart transplant," he said. "But they never want to operate until it's absolutely necessary. So they waited until my condition worsened."

His mother's voice still tightens when she speaks of those nightmarish days.

"He refused to eat. He slept a lot. I would sleep with him and constantly put my head to his chest to see if he was still alive," said Yvonne Ayala, a retired state prison sergeant.

In those days, heart transplants for children were extremely risky. Now, 90 percent of children survive the operation, and three-quarters live at least 10 years.

"They were all experiments, basically," Ayala said. "They told me there's no telling how long he's going to live because he was one of the first ones. We just live day by day.

"I just hope he will be a doctor. That was his dream ever since he was little."

Rather than train as a surgeon, Ramos now plans to become a pediatric cardiologist, a specialty he says will allow him to develop a more personal relationship with his patients.

He figures his own experiences are bound to help him better answer their questions.

"The fears that I've had are probably identical to the fears they have," he said. "It is life-changing, but (life) is better after transplant."

Transplant recipients face a lifetime of periodic medical checkups and the constant danger of organ rejection -- possibly requiring a second, even a third, transplant. But Ramos said there's no reason they can't live a completely normal life.

He took karate classes, became an Eagle Scout and has earned a bachelor's degree in religious studies from The University of California, Riverside.

The 8-inch scar down the middle of his chest is a permanent reminder of the transplant. But dressed in jeans and a sweater and holding hands with his girlfriend, Ramos doesn't draw attention in a crowd

A turning point came at age 16, when he attended a summer camp for heart patients.

"This is where I fit in. This is home," Ramos remembers thinking at Camp del Corazon -- Camp of the Heart. "The first night, everybody was showing each other their scars. It was a competition to see who had the biggest scar and the most scars."

None of that slowed the kids down, Ramos said. They hiked, climbed ropes and rock walls, tried their hand at archery and paddled canoes.

In later years, he returned as a counselor.

As he prepares for medical school, Ramos figures that a transplant patient-turned-doctor should be able to instill hope in the frightened parents of young heart patients.

"Maybe they can see me in that white coat and look down at their child and realize that (a heart condition) is not going to be a limitation in their life," Ramos said.

(E-Mail Richard Brooks at rbrooks(at)PE.com)

(Distributed by Scripps Howard News Service, www.scrippsnews.com.)