Marine’s Heart ‘Beat Goes On’; Recipient Doing Well

Wearing blue jeans, a UCI Medical Center baseball cap and a crimson T-shirt bearing the message, “And the beat goes on . . . “ a ruddy-faced Scott Headding sat up in his bed and pronounced that he feels just fine.

“I can actually look at hospital food and work up an appetite,” he grinned.

Two weeks after doctors implanted the heart of a dead Marine in his chest, making him the first heart transplant recipient in Orange County, Headding was cracking jokes Wednesday in his intensive care hospital room as he met with reporters to describe his experience.

In fact Headding was feeling so chipper that his press conference, originally planned to run 30 minutes, lasted close to an hour before he began showing signs of fatigue and was advised by medical officials to call it quits.

Headding is able to walk 17 laps a day around the hospital’s fifth-floor intensive care unit and is on a stationary bicycle 15 minutes a day to help facilitate his recovery. The first few days after surgery, by contrast, he said he was able only to walk a few halting steps.

Grumbling good-naturedly about all the exercise, Headding called his physician, Dr. Richard Ott, UCIMC’s director of cardiac transplantation, a “slave driver” and vowed friendly revenge.

“When I get into shape, I’m going to personally run him into the ground,” Headding said with a smile as Ott stood nearby.

Ott explained that it was critical for the patient to keep moving in order to prevent blood clots in the legs or pneumonia.

Headding’s high energy level is in marked contrast to his pre-operation self, when he fatigued easily, said Elaine Beno, the medical center’s director of public information. Headding’s ruddy complexion is also a healthy change from his previous colorless look, she said.

Ott, who headed a 50-person team involved with the transplant, said Headding is experiencing an excellent recovery and is exhibiting no signs of rejecting the heart.

Release Seen

Ott predicted that Headding would be released from the hospital within two weeks and would be able to go back to work as a jet engine mechanic within six months. He will be considered out of the woods with regard to rejection within three months, although the first two to three weeks are the most critical, Ott said.

“There are no guarantees,” the doctor said, “but we’re confident.”

For his part, Headding was brimming with confidence Wednesday. He eagerly discussed plans to get back to his two main passions: fishing and playing rock music on the electric guitar. He also nurtures an ambition to write and publish songs.

Headding’s optimism in the face of potential tragedy is nothing new. Ever since finding out last year that he would require a heart transplant to live beyond a few more months, he has maintained a brave face.

“I figured if I was going to die, I was going to die, and if I wasn’t, I wasn’t,” Headding said. “I definitely wasn’t up to living a few more years the way I was.”

Headding suffered from cardiomyopathy, a disease of the heart muscle which a year ago left him unable to work. His heart problems first surfaced in late 1982, he said, when he had to be rushed to the emergency room after his heart began racing at the pace of 182 beats per minute. Doctors then could not figure out the problem.

A year and a half ago, Headding said, he re-entered the hospital with the same problem. This time his ankles were swollen, he was coughing up blood and he suffered from shortness of breath. He said he became winded after skiing only half a run at Southern California’s Mountain High resort last year.

Doctors this time diagnosed Headding as having cardiomyopathy and told him that the heart was failing. They referred him to cardiologists at UCIMC, who began evaluating the need to put him on Orange County’s heart transplant list. In the meantime, Headding had to quit his job and move in with his grandparents until the cardiologists made up their minds. Finally, Ott entered his room.

“He comes up to me and says, ‘Hi, I’m Dr. Ott and you need a heart. You’re a worthless bum, but I’ll cut back on my Porsche payments,’ ” Headding said, laughingly referring to his indigent’s status when he entered the hospital.

In December, Headding was placed on the county’s heart transplant list and was given priority over other patients. Ott said Headding’s heart was so deteriorated that he had only “weeks to months” to live.

But seemingly endless delays set in for Headding.

“That was the hardest part,” he said.

First, he came down with chicken pox for three weeks and had to be taken out of consideration. Then, just 10 days before he was to receive a heart, Headding was wheeled into the surgery room in anticipation of a transplant, only to discover that the donor’s heart was not usable.

“I was stunned,” he said.

Because of that dry run, Headding said he refused to get his hopes up--even as he was going under anesthesia--when news of the Marine’s death came April 7.

El Toro Marine Staff Sgt. Richard Bottjer, 30, and a friend had been at a Fullerton nightclub the previous night and wound up in a fight with two Cal State Fullerton football players, a fight that left Bottjer brain-dead.

He Demanded Water

Headding called the Marine’s death “a very unfortunate incident” but added that he was grateful Bottjer had had the foresight to sign an organ donor card.

“It’s unfortunate, but his heart beats on,” he said. “I’m here to protect it.”

Headding said his first response when told that he would be getting a Marine’s heart was: “It should be a nice, strong, healthy heart.”

When he recovered from anesthesia after the four-hour transplant surgery, Headding said his first sense was that he was in a dark cave with a light in the distance. After tubes were removed from his mouth, he said his first words were: “I can talk.”

Headding demanded water when he regained consciousness.

“I couldn’t swallow,” he said. “My mouth was so dry that I thought I would choke to death.”

Another painful aftereffect for Headding has been leg cramps.

He also began a daily ritual of anti-rejection shots and pills and is now being taught to inject the medication himself, which he will have to take the rest of his life.

During his recuperation period, Headding has been passing the time absorbing some 20 books (“Christine” and “Atlas Shrugged,” among them); watching videocassette movies and listening to rock music on the radio.

He has also found time to pen a few poems. This is one he wrote before his surgery:

When there seems to be no end to the pain and misery;

and you think you just can’t face another day;

just think of all your friends and the good times that you’ve shared;

and let the sunshine in to drive those clouds away;

for no matter how it seems that the darkness never ends;

there’ll always be the sunshine of another day.”