In August of 1993 I donated 40% of my liver to a 9-year-old boy who had Cystic Fibrosis. His name was Ian Young. His mother Debbie Dunn (now Debbie Young) was my wife Kathleen’s closest childhood friend.
When Deb and her husband Jeff became pregnant, they worked hard to be healthy. Deb exercised and ate right and had a great pregnancy.
When it was time to give birth, Jeff called Kathleen and she rushed to the hospital to attend. But Ian’s birth did not go well. He was born lethargic and quite unresponsive. At one point the doctor told a nurse to bag him. Poor Jeff thought he meant a body bag ? ‘Hey, give him a chance!? he cried. But the doctor was referring to a breathing apparatus.
The doctors worked hard to bring him around. Eventually he did respond, but it was a struggle from the beginning. Eventually Ian would be diagnosed with Cystic Fibrosis and Polycystic Kidneys. Deb and Jeff would be in and out of hospitals with Ian for years.
Cystic Fibrosis tends to attack the liver and/or lungs. It is a fatal disease and at that time of the transplant, most youth struggled to survive into their 20’s. For Ian, it was the liver that was failing. He was 9 and his liver would no longer sustain him. There were many desperate drives to the hospital and brushes with death. Eventually, he was’air-vacced? to Wyler’s Children Hospital in Chicago. He could no longer survive with his current liver. He would need a transplant.
In 1993, the majority of all liver transplants were done with cadaver donor livers. The waiting list was long though, and people often died waiting. Ian’s health was progressing from bad to very bad. He would not be able to wait.
By the summer of 1993 there were a number of live liver transplants done in the US. This procedure takes a portion of a living person’s liver and transplants it into the sick patient. It looked like this was the only option for Ian. At that point in time, about 50 live donor transplants had been completed in the US. All the donors were relatives.
The liver is an amazing organ. It has the ability to regenerate tissue. When a portion is taken from a donor and inserted into the recipient, the liver will grow as the recipient grows. Additionally, the portion of liver that was taken from the donor can be regenerated by itself if it needs to be (doctors informed me that not everyone uses 100% of their liver – seems odd, but I just blinked and nodded. What do I know?)
Donating a liver is not like a bone marrow transplant. With a bone marrow transplant you must match some incredible number of variables and it is all very complicated. That is why people across the nation get on the bone marrow transplant list and sick people still never find a match. With a liver transplant there are some variables but it really comes down to blood type, the health of the donor and the liver itself. Apparently the liver has to have the veins and arteries orchestrated in such a way that they can cut a big piece out and not disrupt the rest.
Jeff Young, Ian’s father, immediately volunteered to donate. But after 3 days of testing he was told he was an unsuitable candidate. Debbie’s sister Sandy volunteered. She went to Chicago. She was tested. She was not a candidate. Her husband Johnny volunteered. He was tested. He was not a candidate. Debbie’s other sister Diane went to Chicago. She was not a candidate…
They were running out of family members and out of time.
Next time ? Finding a donor.

My name is Michael Fallon and I grew up in Lake Orion. I currently live in Lake Orion as well (my mugshot will be posted with future columns).
I approached the Orion Review with the idea that I would like to share some of the stories of my life. And though I’m not a celebrity, or someone you might normally read about, I have had a number of interesting experiences where some really strange and wonderful things have happened.
Some of the stories I will be sharing with you include the liver transplant operation where I was the first non-related live liver donor in the US, our housefire (including the battle with the insurance company, public adjusters, and everyone else trying to capitalize on our tragedy). How not to survive kidney stones. What it was like to wrestle for Lake Orion High School. Being the first white people to visit an African village, and many other strange-but-true experiences.
In today’s edition I am going to share the story I call ‘the bizarre airport incident.?
It is 1993 and I am about to donate a portion of my liver to a very sick nine-year-old boy named Ian Young who will die if he doesn’t have the operation (full story in future edition). Though we were told the operation could not be scheduled for at least three weeks, we got the call after only one week. The problem was that my wife Kathleen was in New York. She managed to get a flight the same day and I took my three young children with me to the airport to ‘get Mom!?
We found the terminal at the airport and watched as the plane arrived. We crowded up as the people began to file out. We watched every single person get off that plane including the stewardesses and the pilot. No Kathleen though. The kids looked at me and I shrugged. We asked the stewardess working the door if she had a Kathleen Fallon on the flight. She said she couldn’t give out any information about the flight.
I assumed Kathleen had either missed the flight or I had the wrong terminal. We went to the next terminal where a flight was coming in from New York, but still no wife and mother. I went to a payphone and made some calls. Yes, she had gotten on her plane without incident. No, they didn’t know the flight number. We checked another flight from New York. No luck. I waited for one more plane and then gave up. She would have to get a taxi or something. I didn’t know what else to do. We didn’t have cell phones back then. The kids were exhausted, I was beyond frustrated, and it seemed hopeless at this point.
We started to leave when a thought popped in my head. I should call on the courtesy phone and have her paged. Why hadn’t I thought of that before? I found the nearest phone and picked it up. I was expecting someone on the other end to say something like ‘Hello this is the operator,? or ‘This is a courtesy phone, how can I help you?? or a dial tone or something. Instead it sounded hollow. Like a phone off the hook at the other end. I could actually hear airport sounds and so I started saying ‘Hello, hello.? The voice on the other end said, ‘Hello?? I recognized the voice. I said, ‘Kathleen, is that you?? She said, ‘Michael?!?
I know it is unbelievable, but we both got the idea to use the courtesy phone at the same time, and then we both picked one up at the same time. Somehow we were connected. She was down by baggage and I was up and over somewhere. We rushed to where she was and there was much rejoicing. The kids wanted to know why we didn’t do that sooner.