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        Second Gift of Life

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          At Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston, 20-year-old Alicia Sferrino and her parents listened to the diagnosis of Dr. Leslie Fang, a kidney specialist. "You have acute nephritis, an unusual inflammation," he said. "Your kidneys are 95 percent destroyed."

          All color drained from Alicia's face. Yet the petite blonde set her jaw. "Okay," she said. "My kidneys are in trouble. When can we start treatment to get them into shape?" Dr. Fang's words were measured.

          "I'm afraid what you have is irrevemible. Soon you'll have to go on dialysis."

          Alicia was stunned. Until a few weeks before, she'd felt fine. "Isn't there some other option?" asked her mother, Deanne.

          "Only one," Dr. Fang said. "If we can find a compatible donor, we can perform a transplant."

          A short while later Dr. Fang spoke privately with Deanne and her husband, Vincent. "The options for a transplant are limited," the doctor said. "The wait for a cadaver kidney is over two years. That leaves only a relative with similar blood and tissue types. If you're willing, we should test you immediately to see whose kidney might match."

          Deanne's face twisted with anguish. Vincent responded in almost a whisper. Alicia is adopted. We don't know who her birth parents are.

          Dr. Fang stared back helplessly. "We have only a short time to find them."

          Vincent, an engineer at M.I.T.'s Lincoln Laboratory, and Deanne, a secretary, had adopted Alicia when she was five months old. They had always dreamed of having a daughter to join their adopted son, Michael, then four. A tiny baby with large green eyes, Alicia was to them the most beautiful little girl imaginable.

          Alicia brought wonderful energy and spirit into the Sferrino household. Despite being under five feet tall, she became a star on the Burlington High School field hockey team.

          After graduating, she earned a two-year college degree and landed a job at the Calvin Klein clothing company, where she kept up a grueling work schedule. Alicia was never one toback down from a challenge.

          Now it was Vincent and Deanne who faced a formidable challenge: to track down Alicia's birth parents. Deanne thought back to the times Alicia had longed to learn about them. "It would be better not to tell Alicia," she told her husband. "If we don't find them, or if they refuse, it could devastate her."

          With a court order, the Sferrinos opened Alicia's confidential adoption files. There was Alicia's birth certificate, naming her mother: Ruth Chiasson. The files revealed that Chiasson lived in Framingham, Mass. But the address was 20 years old.

          In the days that followed, Vincent and Deanne worked tirelessly to contact families in Framingliam named Chiasson. None had heard of Ruth.

          In Late February Alicia began blood transfusions. "It's like a bad dream," she told her fiance, Jeff Martin, a young engineering student. "I won't have you taking care of an invalid for the rest of your life."

          "Don't talk like that," Jeff replied, his face ashen. The prospect of losing Alicia terrified him.

          By mid-March her weight had dropped from 95 pounds to 80. She was too weak to work. Medication to stabilize her kidneys caused painful cramping. The sight of her agony drove Vincent to the edge of despair. There has to be a way to save our child.

          In his office one morning, Vincent looked over the list he and Deanne had made of people who might know about Ruth Chiasson. On it were the numbers of every Chiasson in the Framingham area, every public agency with birth records, and a dozen librarians and county clerks. Every number had been called except one. It belonged to Michael Ward, the Framingham town clerk. Vincent said a silent prayer as he dialed.

          Ward answered, and Vincent explained why he was calling. "I knew a fellow years ago named Paul Foisy," said Ward. "I think he married a woman with a name like Ruth Chiasson. They divorced and she moved out of the area.

          "Do you remember anything else about them?" Vincent asked.

          Ward thought. "We've got some old records. I'll dig through them and call you back."

          Vincent thanked him and hung up. He tried to turn his mind to his work but soon was pacing about his office. An hour passed, the longest of his life. Then the phone rang.

          "I did find something," the clerk said. 'A Father Barrett married them at St. George's in Framingham. Maybe he'll know where Ruth is now.

          Vincent hurriedly dialed the church.

          "I'm sorry, Father Barrett hasn't been here for ten years," a woman replied.

          "Is there a chance that anybody would know where he is?" He waited on hold as the seconds ticked by with agonizing slowness. Then the voice returned. "Father Barrett is now at St. John the Evangelist Catholic Church in Chelmsford."

          "Thank you!" Chelmsford was the next town over. Vincent's heart was pounding as he scribbled down the number and dialed again. This time a man answered.

          "I am trying to reach Father Barrett," Vincent said, barely able to control his nervousness.

          "Speaking."

          Vincent took a deep breath.

          On The Afternoon Of March 29, an attractive woman with light brown hair pulled into the driveway of her home in Sunrise, Fla., and scooped up a handful of letters from the mailbox. A normally energetic 37-year-old, Ruth Foisy was tired after her ten-hour shift as a coffee shop manager.

          Her three children-Barbie, 17, Renee, 14, and Paul, 11-were still in school, so she had a few minutes to relax. Easing into a living-room chair, she was surprised to find an envelope from Father Barrett. We haven't been in touch in more than ten years, she thought. What could he be writing about?

          She pulled out a four-page letter. To her puzzlement, it hadn't been written by Father Barrett. "This letter may come as a shock alter so many years," it began, "but we trust you will understand the sincerity and love it represents."

          As Ruth read on, her eyes filled with tears. The letter revealed Alicia's urgent need for a transplant. "We realize the anguish of such a decision," Vincent and Deanne had written. "We ask only that you consider it carefully and compassionately."

          Ruth began to cry as her thoughts swept back 20 years. At 17, she had just given birth to a beautiflil girl she named Patricia Ann. She and her boyfriend had wanted to marry, but her parents had insisted that she give the infant up for adoption. It took four hours of anguish at the adoption agency before she could sign the papers. For months afterward Ruth cried frequently for the baby. Every year she burned a candle on December, the child's birthday.

          So her name is Alicia, Ruth thought. And she needs me.

          A short time later her children found her clutching the letter. "I have something to tell you," she said somberly. For the first time they heard the story of their half-sister.Afterward, Barbie gave her mother a hug. "You choose," Barbie said. "Whatever you decide, we'll support you.

          By Late April Vincent and Deanne were desperate. It had been a month since they had given the letter to Father Barrett, and they had heard nothing. Alicia was growing weaker.

          Did Father Barrett misplace our number? Vincent wondered. He reached for the telephone, determined to find out if the priest had received a response.“Thank goodness it's you!" he heard Father Barrett shout. "Ruth Foisy is willing to be a donor."

          Ruth Arrived In Boston on June 2 and underwent blood tests at Massachusetts General. Her kidney was a match.

          Soon the Sferrinos and their daughter met with Dr. Fang. "We found a donor," the doctor told Alicia.

          "It's your birth mother." At last Deanne and Vincent could tell Alicia the story of their detective work.

          Two days later Ruth sat nervously in Dr. Fang's waiting room. She and Alicia were about to meet. Ruth recalled how so many years before, the tiny baby had grasped her finger and cried when she was left behind. Will she resent me?

          A few moments later Ruth's eyes met those of a pretty young woman. Breaking down, Ruth whispered, "I don't know what to say.

          "It's okay," Micia replied softly, embracing her.

          The next night Ruth and Alicia met for dinner at a restaurant. They were nervous at first, tentative in conversation. Then Alicia asked the question she had always carried inside:

          "Why did you give me up?"

          Ruth looked briefly away, then into her daughter's eyes. "Please believe me――I didn't want to." She told Alicia about her teen-age pregnancy, and about the wrenching guilt she had lived with for giving Alicia up for adoption. Alicia reached across the table and clasped her hand. In that instant Ruth saw what she had desperately hoped for forgiveness.

          The Operations Began at 11 am. on June 12 at Massachusetts General with two teams of doctors and nurses. Surgeons cut away one of Ruth's ribs in order to remove her kidney, then packed the organ in a cold preservation solution. The kidney was whisked to an adjoining room, where the other surgical team made an incision into Alicia's abdomen so the organ could be inserted from the front.

          Five hours later, at 4 p.m., th lead surgeon,Dr. Francis Delmonico strode into the room where Vincent, Deanne, Michael and Jeff waited anxiously. The doctor was smiling. "It looks like they'll both be fine," he said.

          The next day a nurse pushed a wheelchair into Alicia's room. Ruth was huddled in the chair and groggy from painkillers, but her tired eyes were beaming. Alicia reached out to her. "Thank you for my life."

          After her full recovery, Alicia and Jeff married. In March 1996 thei own daughter Ashley Ann, was born.

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