For the past 13 years, I have been walking proof of what it means to get a new lease on life. In 1980 I walked away from Tripler Army Medical Center on Oahu with somebody else's kidney transplanted into my body. [Note 12/97: David continues to do well with his transplant.]

I and forty-three other members of my family are known to be affected with von Hippel-Lindau disease. Doctors first found VHL lesions in my eyes 14 years ago.

At that time I had two weeks remaining on active duty with the U.S. Navy before I was scheduled to get out. At age 22, married, and with a six-month-old son, I had my life mapped out, with a civilian job as an electrician waiting for me.

I was a lean 160 pounds, a runner, and felt great. I was shocked to receive a letter asking me to come to Tripler to be screened for VHL.

For years my family had puzzled over the early deaths of relatives including my father, Elias, who died at 33 of a brain tumor. Other relatives had died or were ill with cancer of the pancreas and kidneys, or had spinal cord tumors. There was some sickness in our family, and it affected the same areas all the time. We kind of knew there must be something, but we couldn't put our finger on it.

It was Tripler physicians James Lamiell and Fernando Salazar and University of Hawaii geneticist Y. Edward Hsia who began to see a link in our family, dating back to at least my father's parents. They received a grant from the government to study the disease in my family.

I felt the picture of health, but doctors were advising me not to get discharged until they had completed my testing. They found tumors in my eyes. I just could not believe it. I was young, I wasn't sick, I didn't have any problems, I was healthy.

Once doctors found the eye tumors, they went forward with a more extensive screening. It was hard on my wife, I think more so on her than on me. But either way, it was real difficult. I was going through a denial and kept telling myself this cannot be, it's a mistake. Not me! I'm not sick, I don't feel bad, I feel good. I'm in perfect shape.

I learned that the disease cannot be stopped, it can only be managed. Affected areas can be treated. I began to see it as an opportunity to apply the Navy's preventive maintenance system (PMS) to my own life.

PMS is what we did to take care of our equipment in the Navy. I began to apply that to my own life, to my own health. Preventive maintenance is necessary if you know that you have the disease. I know I have it, so there are certain steps that I have to take to watch it.

At 22, I learned that there were cancerous tumors on my left kidney. Even though I felt well, I understood that if I left the tumors in, the cancer could spread. I decided to have it removed. They did an exploratory surgery at the same time to check everything, and then found small growths in the right kidney. These they felt were not cancerous, but they told me that there was a chance they could become cancerous at some point, and they couldn't tell me just when.

In one of the hardest decisions I've ever made I decided to have the right kidney removed, go on dialysis, and wait for a transplant. There was a required one-year wait, to make sure that the cancer had not spread to other parts of my body.

The whole time I was on dialysis, I was sick as a dog. I hated it. I always felt bad. I used to get a blood transfusion every two weeks and boy, that would pick me up! Today there are much better methods of dialysis than there were back then.

My mother volunteered one of her kidneys, even though doctors couldn't guarantee that her one remaining kidney would work well enough to support her. She too might face dialysis in the future. To me, that was the ultimate expression of her love, that she was ready to sacrifice everything and go on dialysis. It just overwhelmed me.

I think I know what real love is -- not sentimentality or emotionalism or feelings. Looking back on that, I've grown to see what real love is -- the ability to deny everything you've got and give it all up for someone else.

I couldn't face the thought of my mother possibly having to go on dialysis herself if her remaining kidney failed. I waited until a kidney became available from an unrelated donor, from someone who had died of other causes.

I was the first person on my island to have a transplant. Thirteen years later my new kidney is going strong. A year ago I had surgery to remove a tumor in my spinal cord at the base of my brain. I'm relieved that I don't have to worry about that one any more! Going into surgery I knew that there would be some postoperative spinal cord damage. I'm adjusting to some physical limitations, learning to take them in stride.

Sometimes I feel disappointed about the hand of cards I've been dealt in life. There are things I miss, like a good game of basketball. I used to go hiking, running every day. Now I'm never going to hike that mountain or lift heavy things.

Sometimes I think my physical limitations are hardest on my son. I worry that he feels cheated. You look forward to when you have a son to go out and shoot baskets. I play as much as I can. He understands I'm limited. He won't run into me. Sometimes he lets me win.

The next thing I have to worry about are the tumors that have developed in my pancreas. They are growing, and we are watching them. I am educating myself about pancreas implants. Even without one, though, it is possible to manage with insulin, like a diabetic.

Living like this, waiting for that thing to develop more, is stressful. I feel like OK, that's going to be the next thing I will have to face. What is it going to happen? It is going to be six months? Is it going to be in a year?

The price of my health is constant vigilance, and I've gotten pretty skilled at it. Once I was angry about getting VHL, but no more. I'm just thankful I'm here. I think I've got it good. There are babies born without a chance and terminal cancer patients without a handle to hold onto. I'm just happy to be here.

God put me here; he can do with me what he wants. One thing I feel God wants me to do is to be the pastor of my church. My congregation looks out for me, making sure I don't overdo it. I give all credit to God, and ultimately I'm grateful. He promised to take care of me, and He does.

I don't see myself as a poor thing -- far from it. I have a loving family. I am surrounded by wonderful friends. God is gracious. I have a good life.

as published in June 1993, VHLFF 1:2