On April 16, 1973, a Mexican-American mother brought her dying son to Loma Linda University Medical Center. Oscar, though 6 years old, weighed only 24 pounds. He was suffering from kidney failure, heart failure, and extreme anemia. His big dark-brown eyes were full of fear. Within minutes, Dr. Ralph Harris, the Medical Center's pediatric kidney specialist, was organizing a medical team for Oscar. He needed a blood transfusion to counteract the anemia, medicines to slow down and stabilize his heart, and a peritoneal dialysis to clean his blood. Within 10 hours, Oscar was pulled back from the brink of death. After a two-week hospitalization, Oscar went to his home in Indio, California, 70 miles away.
Oscar had been born with undersized kidneys. His condition had been treated by medication, diet, and fluid restriction. But only six months after he left the Medical Center his kidneys stopped functioning. Since they no longer filtered the impurities from his blood, he was forced to go on an artificial kidney machine. He was the youngest patient ever to undergo routine hemodialysis at Loma Linda University Medical Center.
For the next several months, his mother was unable to meet his appointments. Twice he was rushed to Loma Linda in a near coma. When it became necessary for Oscar to be on dialysis three times a week, Dr. Harris suggested that Oscar stay in a foster home near the Medical Center. His mother refused.
Several weeks later she gave in. The 70-mile distance was too far. There were five other children at home, and she could not afford a baby-sitter. With the agony known only to a mother who has given up a cherished child, Oscar's mother permitted him to become a ward of the court so that he might receive the medical care needed to keep him alive.
Oscar's nurses loved him in a special way and often came back to see him on their days off. But one nurse—Bonnie Porter—came back more often and stayed with him longer. A single woman, she asked if she could take full responsibility for Oscar. Dr. Harris recognized the advantages of having an alert pediatric nurse caring for Oscar and gave his approval.
After Bonnie was accepted as a foster parent by the state social service agency, she explained to Oscar that he needed to live near the hospital and asked if he would like to live with her. He understood and accepted her idea. When Oscar turned 7, he was no larger than an average 3-year-old. Because of his kidney problem, he weighed only 32 pounds, and on his weak, wobbly legs he stood only three feet tall. But he had persistence, a friendly giggle, and an impish nature.
Almost everyone in the Medical Center knew Oscar. Members of the staff went out of their way to say hello to him. Oscar would give a hand in pushing a crib from one room to another, and try to be helpful whenever he saw an opportunity. He seemed to accept his condition. He was even cheerful about his dialysis treatments. During the procedure Oscar would wave goodbye to his blood as it flowed through the clear plastic tubes toward the kidney machine. When he demanded that bystanders wish his blood well, no one could refuse.
Oscar's cheerfulness and love of life infected everyone who met him. He visited every new patient on the children's unit and wanted each one to be his friend. When a 6-year-old girl was admitted with problems similar to his, he assured her that he was praying for her. He brought her flowers, shared his lunches, and entertained her by plucking randomly on his toy guitar, singing as he played.
A kidney transplant was Oscar's only hope for a normal life. Twice, when acceptable organs were available, Oscar had kidney and urinary tract infections. His condition made surgery risky no matter what course his physicians took. Finally, because his kidneys threatened his life and had twice prevented transplants, the decision was made to remove them at Children's Hospital of Los Angeles. A week after returning home from surgery, Oscar became listless and began breathing with difficulty.
Fearing heart failure, Bonnie took him to the Medical Center even though he protested that he was "not that sick." Medicine and dialysis seemed to correct his problems, and by 10:30 p.m. he was sleeping comfortably. But two hours later, Oscar went into cardiac arrest. The medical team succeeded in shocking his heart into a steady, normal beat, a procedure that often leads to recovery. But the valiant little Oscar was unconscious.
During the next few hours his heart stopped beating and was restarted a dozen times. A respirator assisted his breathing. A dialysis machine cleansed his blood and intravenous solutions enriched it. Nurses and friends lingered outside his room hoping to be needed. Among those standing by, none had his brown skin or black hair. But one young woman's tears were nearer the surface. Oscar was not her child, but Bonnie was obviously "his mother." The doctors shared anxious glances with her.
The effort to revive Oscar continued for three days. Bonnie tried to communicate: "Oscar, this is Mommy. Squeeze my hand if you can hear me." No response. She played his favorite record over and over again in hopes that he would give some sign that he heard her. But he did not. Although his heart continued to beat, Oscar's electroencephalogram went flat. His brain was dead. At Bonnie's request Oscar was laid in her arms. She gently rocked him to sleep for the last time, weeping softly as dozens of Oscar's hospital friends silently bade him good-bye. Bonnie cradled him in her arms for three hours before he took his last breath. Neither the 70 dialysis treatments he endured, nor the pain, nothing but death itself had succeeded in stifling his buoyant charm.
According to Dr. Harris, "What we learned [Oscar had been the most 'conferenced' child at the Medical Center] didn't enable us to save Oscar's life, but it will help others. We learned a lot about life from Oscar, too. We learned about love and courage and the will to live."
Writing about the experience later, Chaplain M. Jerry Davis, RelD, said, "The problem of unfulfilled potential arouses in the heart the simple, pointed question, 'Why?' The Scriptural answer is that sorrow, suffering, sadness, and death have no place in God's plan. They are the reason for His plan...."