My 18-year-old son’s lasting gift as an organ donor

It was Monday, August 19, around 5 p.m. Dalton was driving back from work on Route 3 West in Plattsburgh with his mom, my wife, Barbara. He was working with her in Saranac for the summer and was set to begin classes as a freshman at SUNY Plattsburgh. It was a Monday, and he was going to start classes on Friday. His last day of work was going to be Wednesday. That’s how close he was.

He was 18 years old.

I was at work. I’m an organic chemistry professor at SUNY Plattsburgh. I’m also the artistic director of the Plattsburgh State Gospel Choir of SUNY Plattsburgh and am involved in the Burlington Ecumenical Gospel Choir. My mom called to tell me the hospital was looking for me. I thought it was a telemarketer, so I was scolding her for letting them reach me as I saw they were trying to call my cell. Then they called my office phone. You kind of know it’s not a telemarketer when that happens.

The voice said, “This is ____ from UVM Health Network CVPH. I’m calling to tell you your son has been in an accident.” Your stomach just drops. Then she said, “But he’s okay.” I said, “What about my wife?” She said, “You need to hurry.”

They told me to come to the emergency room. I got in my car, panicking, praying. I knew I had to call our daughter Danielle. She’s a student at SUNY. I told her to come straight to the hospital.

The nurses met me in the emergency room — I don’t know how they knew it was me; I guess they used the cameras, and they took me straight to the back of the emergency department. Barb and Dalton were lying there, on separate beds.

To me, Barb didn’t look like a person who would survive. I was staring at her, and then I realized Dalton was lying right next to her. Dalton looked fine — a little bloody, but otherwise okay.

And then a beeper went off. Somebody had flatlined — I didn’t know who. The staff rushed over and began working on Dalton, and they brought him back almost right away. I thought, “Oh, he’s going to be fine.”

A nurse asked me if I wanted to sit somewhere or stay in the room. I told her, I need to be here. I’m so thankful that the protocol wasn’t for me to have to be rushed out of the room.

I began to learn a little more about what had happened. The car had hit a house. Barbara was easier for the emergency personnel to remove from the vehicle — she was suspended over Dalton. It took them maybe 30 minutes to get Dalton out, he was on the bottom.

But he was breathing. His heart was beating. He looked fine.

Barbara was bleeding profusely, in the brain and on her body. She had several lacerations, a broken wrist.

Dalton — he looked like nothing was wrong. What we didn’t know is that he’d had a serious blow to the head. His jaw was split in two. His head had hit the concrete base of the house and snapped his neck. If he’d survived, he probably would have been paralyzed.

I was told by the CVPH people they were getting ready to airlift Barbara to UVM Medical Center. I’m standing there, torn. My wife is leaving, they’re still working on my son.

Then Danielle showed up. I realized I couldn’t do the drive to Burlington on my own, so I called our family friend Andrea to drive me and Danielle to Burlington.

In the meantime, the doctors told me that they were worried about Dalton’s brain wave functions. I didn’t know what that really meant.

I just wanted to get to Barb and whisper to her, and pray with her quietly.

So by this time it’s about 8 p.m. Andrea, Danielle and I get to the ferry and for some reason there are dozens of 18-wheelers and lots of cars trying to get on the ferry. I thought, “Are you kidding me? Are we going to miss this ferry?” That’s when I did what I don’t usually do: I went up to the ferry crew and told them my wife and son were being airlifted to the medical center in Burlington.

They put us on first.

When I arrived, the staff met us and took us all the way back to where my wife and son were, every step. Barb’s in a room, Dalton’s in an open area. They told me Barbara had some serious injuries. “We’ll know more later,” they said. “But there’s hope.” For Dalton, they said, “We’re still trying to assess.”

Hours went by. I was kind of in a state of suspended animation. At 3 a.m., they told me Barbara was going to be OK. Even under heavy sedation, she was responding to commands.

There still was no response from Dalton. He’d stroked out on his left side, and was starting to stroke out on his right side. “But he’s breathing,” I said. They explained how that was different. They told me that with minimal support he could make it to Thursday.

My whole world collapsed on a dime. Friday he was supposed to be at freshman orientation. One of the nicest guys in the world. My best guy friend.

I had to tell his sisters, my mom, his grandmother. It was like a movie — I wasn’t even there, just watching myself going through the motions.

At some point, the organ donation coordinator, Jennifer DeMaroney, approached me and in the most compassionate way possible started to talk to me. “We’re here to support you,” she told me. She said she had Dalton’s driver’s license, and that he was an organ donor. I remember when he finally got his adult operator license. He was so proud. And I remember him asking me about being an organ donor when he was just 15. That was what Dalton was like. I told him then, “sure, be an organ donor — but that’s something you’ll never have to worry about.”

The way Jenn talked to me about it was just really sweet. She said, “He’s 18. These are his wishes.” I took it for what it was. I could see how some people would want to say no. I mean, it’s the last thing you want to think about. But the way she talked about it, I understood.

Then she talked to me about The Honor Walk, about how they bring him to the OR and staff line the halls to show solidarity and support.

That night, they put Danielle and I up in a hotel. We had Barbara’s and Dalton’s personal items. Lots of bloody clothes. They gave us gloves. All the bodily fluids, we’re going through things, item by item. I still remember the smell of my family. The tears in Danielle’s eyes. We were looking for personal things: Dalton’s class ring, a necklace with some kind of animal tooth on it, which Dalton wore every day. A friend had given it to him, we were always asking him why he wore it and he told us “It means a lot to me.” Also, Barbara’s necklace which her godmother passed down to her when Barbara was a child. 

Then we looked at our emails and phone messages — everything was blowing up. People didn’t know what had happened and there was a lot of misinformation out there. We decided we needed to put information out on social media, Facebook. We let people know that Dalton had passed, and that Barbara was expected to survive. We talked about how Dalton was an organ donor and that he would be donating his organs in the next couple days. I think people found strength in that. At least 50k views so far on that little video we posted ….

The next day at the hospital, by 10 a.m., there were roughly 50 kids there, all wanting to see Dalton. He was a standout wrestler, on the yearbook committee, he was the class photographer, he played the string bass in the orchestra, he was the primary driver for kids going to Sunday afternoon church youth services. So a lot of people knew him.

God bless Jenn, Toby Rockwood and all those amazing ICU nurses. They found a way to let a couple hundred people come in and pay their respects to Dalton and Barbara.

At one point in all of this, I closed the door to Dalton’s room. “Dalton,” I said, it’s OK — we’re going to be OK. You did everything we’ve (mom and dad) asked you to do — and more. It’s OK for you to go home and rest.”

I just pray he could hear me. But I don’t know.

Jenn and Toby asked about the Gospel Choir coming and singing during the Honor Walk. I thought that was a great idea. They altered the route through the hospital so the walk could be a little longer. I had been going back and forth between two different rooms to visit Dalton and Barbara — they rolled Dalton into Barbara’s room so that we could all be together one last time.

On Thursday, we walked my son down to the OR. So many people — so many UVM staff — took time out to line the walls, to honor my son in what he did as his last act of kindness.

They were led by the choir, who sang “All We Ask” by Donnie McClurkin.

It’s been just a few months since all this happened. Barbara is recovering. And four hours after they took out my son Dalton’s heart, it was beating life into someone else.

To register as an organ and tissue donor go to Donate Life Vermont or Donate Life New York.