STANWOOD — His friends called him “Tinman,” after the “Wizard of Oz” character.
For nearly a year, all Steve Goforth wanted was a heart.
The Everett firefighter’s wish came true Nov. 3, when surgeons cut open his chest.
Thanks to an organ donor, Goforth, 37, celebrated Thanksgiving with his family.
Instead of relying on a machine to move blood through his body, he again felt the beating of a living heart.
“It feels great. I feel so much better every day,” Goforth said. “The thing is just pounding.”
A month since heart transplant surgery, Goforth is healing slowly at his Stanwood home.
“It’s a pretty amazing journey that the Goforths have been on,” Everett Fire Chief Murray Gordon said. “A lot of the positive results have been related to their faith, to the support the community has given them, and for Steve’s courage in the face of this serious illness.”
Goforth’s surgeons said his recovery is going well.
“We’re delighted with how he’s doing,” Dr. Nahush Mokadam said. Mokadam twice reached into Goforth’s chest: once to install a machine that kept his blood circulating, later to give him his new heart.
“Transplantation is in some way a miracle, but also a new set of problems for the patient,” said Mokadam, who directs the heart transplant program at the University of Washington Medical Center.
Goforth’s health problems will continue for the rest of his life.
Since the surgery, Goforth must take more than 23 medications, a total of about 40 pills daily. It costs up to $600 a month for the prescriptions, and that’s after insurance.
Each week, doctors take biopsies to see if his body might be rejecting the heart.
At home, a bottle of antiseptic hand cleaner is on every counter. A face mask always is within his reach.
To help Goforth’s body resist rejection, his doctors suppressed his immune system.
Common colds, bugs and bacteria found in grass or dirt and other microscopic risks abound.
“We have to be germaphobes,” his wife, Julie, said.
Goforth’s problems began about a year ago. He found himself in an ambulance, a familiar place for a paramedic. This time he was on the gurney and being rushed to the hospital.
Doctors later told him he had congestive heart failure and needed a new heart. Until a donor heart could be found, he lived with a high-tech heart machine in his chest that used a turbine to move blood through his body, not unlike a water wheel.
Goforth had no pulse, but the machine kept his blood circulating. He slept plugged into a wall. If the power went out, his life depended on back-up generators.
In late October, Goforth was whisked to Seattle. Doctors believed they had a donor.
It turned out to be a “fire drill,” Goforth said. There were problems with the donor organ and doctors didn’t want to take risks.
The phone rang again about a week later on a Sunday morning in early November.
“Hey, we’d like you to come. We have a possible heart for you,” a transplant nurse said.
Everything seemed to fall into place.
“There was something or someone helping us along,” he said.
By the end of the first week after the transplant, he was well enough to sit up in bed and talk to his two sons, Baylor, 7, and Garrett, 9.
On Nov. 21, he went home.
For the all the joy the Goforths experienced since the successful surgery, they know another family is mourning.
“It’s such a gift out of that tragedy,” Goforth said.
They don’t know whose life ended or what loss became their miracle.
Federal law protects the privacy of organ donors, but there is a way for recipients to personally thank donors.
LifeCenter Northwest, the group that manages organ transplants in Washington, helps the families of donors and the families of recipients talk with each, said Julie Hertl. She goes through each piece of correspondence and makes sure anonymity is preserved.
“Donor families like to hear that people’s lives continue as a result of their priceless gifts,” she said.
The Goforths said they plan to make a scrapbook and mail it to the donors. They want to share photos of Steve, the boys, the family pets: four dogs, five cats, two goats and a pair of horses.
If both the donor’s family and the recipient agree, they can eventually meet, Hertl said.
“There’s an undeniable connection,” she said.
For now, Goforth is focused on regaining his strength and being a dad.
It’s unlikely he’ll return to work as a paramedic or again put out a fire. His immune system will never been the same, he said.
Still, he hopes he can stay a part of the Everett Fire Department community.
“I do work for the best fire department I ever could,” he said. “They’ve been so supportive.”
Firefighters on Tuesday strung Christmas lights on the Goforth home. When the family ran low on firewood, firefighters showed up with enough fuel to fill the barn.
Goforth’s vacation and sick time ran out long ago. He’s being paid thanks to vacation time donated by other firefighters.
After surgery, firefighters renamed Goforth. Instead of “Tinman,” they started calling him “Iron Man,” a nod to the comic book character that comes back to life after suffering a heart injury.
Through his illness, Goforth has become an example of “how we all hope to live,” said Gordon, the fire chief.
“His desire to move on with life, to be home with family and friends, it was an inspiring moment for me, for all of us,” Gordon said.
In the days following the transplant, filled with powerful anesthesia and pain medications, Goforth’s mind blurred and he didn’t know where he was. Finally, the fog lifted.
“I woke up and it’s like, ‘Mission accomplished,’ ” he said.
Now, he lists the things he’s grateful for: being alive, his family, his wife, the opportunity to watch his boys grow up, his community.
“We’ve seen so much kindness,” he said.
Talk to us
> Give us your news tips.
> Send us a letter to the editor.
> More Herald contact information.
