The

it
s on

JULIE EDGAR

News Editor

would seem that divine provi-
dence had a hand in Erik Mor-
anroth's survival. Or maybe it
was the vigilance of family,
friends and strangers. It could have
been his level-headedness.
Perhaps, he speculates, all three saw
him through the ordeal.
Today, almost three years after Erik
received a new heart, the 28-year-old
is about to be married to Andrea Palu-
gyay, he's working full-time as a retail
design consultant and sits on various
boards of area arts organizations.
He shrugs his shoulders at ques-
tions about the nature of fate and the
strangeness of carrying around another
person's heart. Who knows? He would
forget about the heart if he didn't have
constant reminders, like the pill vials
that line his bedside table and medi-
cine cabinet.
"I've changed, not because it's
someone else's heart but because
somebody had to lose her life so I
could live," Erik says. But people's
expectations of him — either that he
can or can't do certain activities —
serve as a reminder that his life is dif-
ferent.
"You almost have to be treated the
same," Erik says. "I've been given a
challenge, and there are many chal-
lenges out there."
Erik, as most people who read the
news or watch TV recall, almost died
after a common virus turned into
myocarditis, an inflammation of the
heart lining, in late 1994. Doctors at
the University of Michigan Hospital
issued doomsday prognoses, announc-
ing that he probably would not sur-
vive for more than 12 days on an arti-
ficial heart pumping machine. He sur-
vived three times that long. After
being artificially kept alive for over a
month, a heart came in that matched
his blood type and size. He suffered
kidney and liver failure. A high fever
the night before surgery made the
transplantation uncertain, but his

1 / 1 6
1998

8

Erik Morganroth is embarking on
a new phase in his life as he
approaches his three-year mark
with a new heart.

temperature stabilized the next morn-
ing. When Erik's body rejected a pre-
surgery, anti-clotting drug, the hospi-
tal turned to an experimental synthet-
ic. It worked.
Erik was restored to normalcy,
with the heart of a 32-year-old subur-
ban Detroit woman who died under
circumstances that still remain a mys-
tery to him. That year, he was one of
47 heart recipients in Michigan and
2,360 people nationwide. But only
177 people in his age group, 18-34,
received new hearts that year.
The only difference between him
and most other people, according to
Erik, is that he takes between 35 and
40 pills daily, most of them immuno-
suppressants that prevent his body

a-.

Erik Morganroth at work.

199
199
199

1.995

997
96

— Information provided by Gift Of Life
in Ann Arbor

from rejecting the heart, and
he undergoes quarterly biop-
sies of his heart.
His celebrity sets him apart,
too. Since the operation on
January 27, 1995, the news
media come around on holi-
days like Thanksgiving look-
ing for a heartwarming story
about surviving against the
odds. And, total strangers
who recognize Erik open up
to him about their ailments
or the ailments of family and
friends.
"It's like you have mem-
bership in the same club," he
quips.
He's not complaining about
that, nor the fact that the
transplant forced him to give
up aspirations to become a
doctor. As prone to illness as

he is because of the medications,
working in a clinical setting would
endanger his health. A cold, Erik
noted, could turn into a pneumonia
and kill him.
Besides, he likes his job at Sher-
wood Studios, a retail design studio in
West Bloomfield that is owned by a
family member. He lifts weights and
2\
exercises. He serves as chairman of t11-
annual Fash Bash auction, which ben-
efits the Detroit Institute
of Arts, and, alon., with
Andrea, is a member of
the volunteer association
of the Michigan Opera
Theatre. Erik also speaks
publicly about the subject
of organ donation, most
recently at Adat Shalom.
Sherwood Studios has
held two fund-raisers for
Gift of Life, an organ pro-
curement agency that is
based in Ann Arbor.
And, he may one day go
back to school to become
a patient advocate — an
area of health care with
which he is intimately
familiar. When Erik goes
to U-M Hospital for biop-
sies, he often is asked to
talk to other organ recipi-
ents. While doctors could-
n't, he was able to per-
suade an older woman
there to undergo a heart
transplant.
He and Andrea, a realtor,s1;
will be married in Septem-
ber. The couple knew each
other vaguely before Erik's change of
heart, but did not start dating until
about a year and a half ago.
The heart transplant, Erik joked,
was his "in" with Andrea.
And since the two became engaged,
Andrea says, she's been asked why she,
would marry somebody whose health
is precarious. She believes he has a
long life ahead of him.
Her fiance, she says, is "mature
beyond his years," perhaps as a result
of the trauma he underwent.
"I've always been level," Erik coun-
ters. "I didn't overreact; I didn't get
emotional. When they told me I had
12 days in which to get a heart, I jusr---/
dealt with it."
But, "It would be hard for me to
deny there's a power I can't put my
finger on," he concedes. "It makes me
realize my own mortality. It makes me
more humble."

❑

