First Person is a daily personal piece submitted by readers. Have a story to tell? See our guidelines at tgam.ca/essayguide.
Six years ago, my life was rocked to the core. I was 27 years old and had spent most of my 20s working on my education. I was recently married to my college sweetheart, Lauren, and living in Red Deer, Alta., pursuing a career in construction management. We had both graduated with our degrees and certifications, and were getting ready to start a family. Then came cancer.
At first, I didn’t know if I was going to survive. By the time the doctors found it, most of my bone marrow was already destroyed, and I had no functioning immune system. I was rushed by ambulance to the Tom Baker Cancer Centre in Calgary to begin immediate chemotherapy treatment for my diagnosis of acute myeloid leukemia, an aggressive form of blood cancer.
My doctors determined that my best chance at survival would be through a stem-cell transplant from a genetically matched donor. Combined with an intense protocol of chemotherapy and radiation, donor stem cells received via an intravenous transfusion would rid my body of the remaining leukemia and restart my immune system from scratch. But until a match could be found, I was in a holding pattern of continuous month-long rounds of chemo to keep the cancer at bay. In order to become cancer-free, I needed to find a “genetic twin” who was willing to share a piece of themselves with me.
After three agonizing weeks, we received a call from Canadian Blood Services about a potential donor. A young woman in her 20s appeared to match the genetics required for a transplant. I was curious to find out her identity, but policies guiding stem-cell transplants in Canada prohibit this until two years have passed after a successful transplant. Where in the world was this mystery donor of mine, and would I ever get to meet her?
On Oct. 24, 2018, with a team of nurses and my wife by my side, I received an infusion of 766 million donor stem cells over the course of about 90 minutes. As we watched the stem cells enter my bloodstream, I felt as if I was receiving an infusion of hope. Hope for a life without cancer, hope for the future.
Fast-forward almost six years. Lauren and I are waiting at the Calgary airport. I am now cancer-free and back to full health, and we are joined by our six-month-old daughter, Lucy. Her being here is all the more special because she is a miracle baby. My doctors told me the odds of fathering children after my cancer treatment were slim-to-none. Lucy defies those odds.
We are here to meet Christiane, my genetic twin.
Three years ago, I learned the identity of this young woman who saved my life. She lives in a small village in Germany, where she works as a speech therapist. She joined the international stem-cell registry after a stem-cell drive to try and find a match for a girl in her community suffering from leukemia. While she was not a match for her, she was one for me.
I wrote her a heartfelt letter thanking her for saving my life. Two months later, I received a response and over the past three years we have slowly learned more about each other’s lives. This summer, as a token of our gratitude, Lauren and I decided to invite Christiane to visit us in Canada.
Each time the glass doors open and an arrival walks out, my heart skips a beat. Is that her? What will she be like in person?
Then Lauren exclaims, “She’s here!”
She runs up to us and I wrap her in a bear hug.
Christiane is petite with long brown hair and stylish glasses. Despite being genetic twins, we look nothing alike. With smiles on our faces, we exit the airport and make our way to the mountains, to spend the next week enjoying each other’s company at a resort outside of Canmore.
Our time together is filled with laughter, deep conversations and a little culture shock on Christiane’s part. She is surprised by how polite Canadians are and the size of our vehicles. We ride the Sulphur Mountain Gondola in Banff, gaze at the pristine waters of Lake Minnewanka and play many heated card games. As we reflect on this memorable experience, we acknowledge just how rare this connection we share is. After all, how many people get to meet their genetic twin?
We talk of life after cancer and what true healing really means. We speak of finding contentment and inner peace. We talk of love and relationships and the importance of prioritizing people over things. Christiane and Lucy become instant friends. This time together is a precious gift and a privilege. Besides saving my life, we also owe our daughter’s life to Christiane’s selfless generosity.
Our week together passes quickly, and with sadness in our hearts, we say our goodbyes at the airport again. As I watch Christiane depart, I wonder if we will ever meet in person again. I think that we will, but even if not, I remain grateful for this generous stranger who changed all of our lives. Driving home, I reflect with wonder on this unique connection we now share. Despite the distance between us, her blood now runs in my veins – and that makes her family.
Michael Wark lives in Red Deer, Alta.
