Jonathan Egan won't put up with talk of his bravery and sacrifice. 'The way I see it, we all played our part,' he tells Róisín Ingle
'You have two young children. What happens if Daddy dies?" This was just one of the questions doctors in New York put to Jonathan Egan in the build-up to the operation that saved his brother Gary's life. In a brave act of brotherly love, two-thirds of his own liver was transplanted into Gary who was suffering from chronic liver failure. But, says Jonathan now, "When you see a brother or sister as sick as Gary was you have no hesitation, none at all."
Stiff and sore from the operation last September 11th, but with 50 per cent of his own liver function back already, Jonathan is surprisingly sanguine about his role in the lifesaving procedure. Gary (38) is recovering slowly in New York University Medical Hospital where the operation took place, while Jonathan (37) expects to be back at work in the family wholesale meat business in two weeks. At home in Rathfarnham, Dublin, Jonathan, a father of two, sips a soft drink as he describes how he and his wife Andrea made the decision.
"We talked. In my mind it was the way forward for him. I did research and found out that to be transplanted with a stranger's liver is a very hard thing for people to cope with." Gary's situation was continuing to deteriorate. "Andrea said: 'I am 100 per cent behind you.' We made contingency plans as to how we would cope. I made a will and set up funds for the children."
The couple's son, Sean, was just a baby, while their daughter, Emily, was almost three. "I explained to Emily that I was going to help Uncle Gary," he recalls. "She knew he was sick in hospital. I told her they were going to give a piece of my tummy to Gary."
Surgeon Lewis Teperman, who led the transplant team, had to be satisfied beyond doubt that Jonathan was biologically and psychologically fit for the operation. There were endless tests, for hepatitis, even for AIDS, before approval was given. The psychological evaluation was just as thorough.
"They needed to make sure I knew what I was doing. They were blunt telling me that there was a 30 per cent chance of contracting pneumonia or deep-vein thrombosis and there was a chance I could die," he says.
There were no guarantees the operation would save his brother's life. But Jonathan blocked out all negativity. It helped that he had unwavering faith in the medical team.
"They were not like surgeons here with the silly little dickiebows," he says. "These guys came in and they put their arms around you. Teperman is only 45. They were like guys you would knock around with. They came in wearing jeans and shirt and they made you feel at ease. I felt safe in their hands."
When it was time to pick a date for surgery, Jonathan told the 24-strong medical team that he had most of September free. Initially they were reluctant to opt for September 11th. "They asked me what I thought. They were superstitious about the date. I said: 'I think so many people died that day something good might come of it.' They said OK."
When Aer Lingus heard his story, he was upgraded to first class for the return trip to New York. The operation on the brothers began early in the morning and Jonathan came to just over 24 hours later.
"I felt everything . . . to make sure I was alive," he says. "They brought me in to see Gary and I told him we had got through it. I sat by his bed for a while."
Although he doesn't remember it now, he was in excruciating pain for days afterwards and his parents Mary and John and his sister Lorraine, a nurse who had had also volunteered to donate part of her liver, came over to help with his recovery. The medics gradually removed tubes from his neck, his nose and other parts of his body.
"I left the hospital after a week and Teperman told me to go and have a few beers, that I deserved it. There are no dietary restrictions but I haven't had a drink yet. I am not quite up to socialising," he says.
His mother says there were many "dark days" since early this year when they first learned of Gary's illness, days when "I didn't even want to get up".
"We were amazed by the support we got from friends and family. From all over the world. Gary's wife, Wendy, was incredible and through it all Jonathan kept us going with his determination and his belief that it would work," she says.
But Jonathan won't put up with talk of his bravery and sacrifice. "Don't overdo it," he tells his mother. "I'll have to live up to that for the rest of my life. The way I see it, we all played our part."
He received hundreds of Mass cards before the operation. "You start thinking people know something you don't when that happens," he jokes. The whole family has been genuinely surprised at the level of media interest in their trauma.
The next time Jonathan and his family travel to see his brother in America will be for the Thanksgiving holiday, which is appropriate given that none of them have ever had more reason in their lives to give thanks.