Carson - Gifted hands 20th anniversary edition: the ben carson story

by Candy Carson

M ore blood! Stat!

The silence of the OR was smashed by the amazingly quiet command. The twins had received 50 units of blood, but their bleeding still hadnt stopped!

Theres no more type-specific blood, the reply came. Weve used it all.

As a result of this announcement, a quiet panic erupted through the room. Every ounce of type AB negative blood had been drained from the Johns Hopkins Hospital blood bank. Yet the 7-month-old twin patients who had been joined at the back of their heads since birth needed more blood or they would die without ever having a chance to recuperate. This was their only opportunity, their only chance, at normal lives.

Their mother, Theresa Binder, had searched throughout the medical world and found only one team who was willing to even attempt to separate her twin boys and preserve both lives. Other surgeons told her it couldnt be donethat one of the boys would have to be sacrificed. Allow one of her darlings to die? Theresa couldnt even bear the thought. Although they were joined at the head, even at 7 months of age each had his own personalityone playing while the other slept or ate. No, she absolutely couldnt do it! After months of searching she discovered the Johns Hopkins team.

Many of the 70-member team began offering to donate their own blood, realizing the urgency of the situation.

The 17 hours of laborious, tedious, painstaking operating on such tiny patients had progressed well, all things considered. The babies had been successfully anesthetized after only a few hours, a complex procedure because of their shared blood vessels. The preparation for cardiovascular bypass hadnt taken much longer than expected (the five months of planning and numerous dress rehearsals had paid off). Getting to the site of the twins juncture wasnt particularly difficult for the young, though seasoned, neurosurgeons either. But, as a result of the cardiovascular bypass procedures, the blood lost its clotting properties. Therefore, every place in the infants heads that could bleed did bleed!

Fortunately, within a short time the city blood bank was able to locate the exact number of units of blood needed to continue the surgery. Using every skill, trick, and device known in their specialities, the surgeons were able to stop the bleeding within a couple of hours. The operation continued. Finally, the plastic surgeons sewed the last skin flaps to close the wounds, and the 22-hour surgical ordeal was over. The Siamese twinsPatrick and Benjaminwere separate for the first time in their lives!

The exhausted primary neurosurgeon who had devised the plan for the operation was a ghetto kid from the streets of Detroit.

Blood type changed for privacy.

A nd your daddy isnt going to live with us anymore.

Why not? I asked again, choking back the tears. I just could not accept the strange finality of my mothers words. I love my dad!

He loves you too, Bennie but he has to go away. For good.

But why? I dont want him to go. I want him to stay here with us.

Hes got to go

Did I do something to make him want to leave us?

Oh, no, Bennie. Absolutely not. Your daddy loves you.

I burst into tears. Then make him come back.

I cant. I just cant. Her strong arms held me close, trying to comfort me, to help me stop crying. Gradually my sobs died away, and I calmed down. But as soon as she loosened her hug and let me go, my questions started again.

Your Daddy did Mother paused, and, young as I was, I knew she was trying to find the right words to make me understand what I didnt want to grasp. Bennie, your daddy did some bad things. Real bad things.

I swiped my hand across my eyes. You can forgive him then. Dont let him go.

Its more than just forgiving him, Bennie

But I want him to stay here with Curtis and me and you.

Once again Mother tried to make me understand why Daddy was leaving, but her explanation didnt make a lot of sense to me at 8 years of age. Looking back, I dont know how much of the reason for my fathers leaving sank into my understanding. Even what I grasped, I wanted to reject. My heart was broken because Mother said that my father was never coming home again. And I loved him.

Dad was affectionate. He was often away, but when he was home hed hold me on his lap, happy to play with me whenever I wanted him to. He had great patience with me. I particularly liked to play with the veins on the back of his large hands, because they were so big. Id push them down and watch them pop back up. Look! Theyre back again! Id laugh, trying everything within the power of my small hands to make his veins stay down. Dad would sit quietly, letting me play as long as I wanted.

Sometimes hed say, Guess youre just not strong enough, and Id push even harder. Of course nothing worked, and Id soon lose interest and play with something else.