USNS Comfort Offers a Future to a Young Boy

Joseph Brazan (Joseph Brazauskas) sent us this touching and heartwarming story about the caring USNS Comfort's crew members. Americans have extended help and hope to many Lithuanians here and in Lithuania over the years. This is just one story that continues the American tradition of empathy, caring, and courage many have experienced.

"I am writing to you in great hope." These are the opening words in a letter from Lithuanian resident Tatjana Tvardauskiene as she asks CAPT Kevin O'Connell, Commanding Officer of the medical treatment facility aboard USNS Comfort (TAH 20), to help her son, who has a rare birth defect.

USNS Comfort was at anchor off Klaipeda, Lithuania while participating in Baltic Challenge '98, an annual international military exercise involving eleven European nations and the United States.

In writing a letter concerning her 13-year old son, Vidmantas, Tatjana says, "My son was born Dec. 13, 1984, with a big tumor on the back of his head. Since that day, my family and myself have lived in hope that God will have mercy on us and will not deprive us of the child."

Comfort neurosurgeon CDR Ross Moquin said that Vidmantas had a lipomycolminingocele (osseous horn), a growth that started before Vidmantas was born. This growth pushed out of his skull and continued to grow under his scalp, giving him a horn-like protrusion. It caused a permanent tennis ball-sized hole in his skull and continued to grow in his brain, slowly creating internal pressure and pain.

This condition is rare, but left untreated can have devastating and life-threatening effects. Tatjana's letter neither begs nor pleads, rather she starkly outlines what the entire family has done to seek help for their son. But between the lines a mother's love is abundantly clear, as is her heart-breaking and frustrating fight to save her son. Vidmantas has been hospitalized 14 times. At two and again at four years of age, surgery was attempted and some of the growth removed. But both times Russian surgeons had to turn back because Vidmantas was losing too much blood. Since then, doctors from Lithuania to Moscow have offered no encouragement and say they have done all they can.

The years of care, worry, and frustration have led to Tatjana's own failing health. Yet her letter ends with, "My son, Vidmantas, though his head is deformed and the defect is visible, lives a happy and cheerful life. We explained to him that the bump on his head is just like glasses, dentures, or other things. We taught him to ignore strange glances or words of other people. He still does not realize what is actually wrong with him, that his life is still in danger."

Tatjana said she dreamed every day of finding a way to get Vidmantas to America. It was just a dream, because going to America was out of the question Ö at first, because Lithuania was part of Russia - then, after independence, it was just too costly.

Tatjana read a story in her local newspaper on July 20th, about the American hospital ship Comfort, anchored near Klaipeda. Afraid to hope, she contacted the reporter, asking for more information. After hearing Tatjana's story, the reporter thought it was worth asking the exercise press information center for assistance.

Tatjana was told Baltic Challenge was a training exercise and that military participants from the exercises had been sent to Comfort for treatment, but no civilians. She was, however, encouraged to call the U.S. Embassy in Vilnius. Again, there were no definite answers but she was asked to write a letter, fax it to the embassy, and they would forward it to the commanding officer of Comfort.

Tatjana wrote the letter just as she had written other letters in the past. She knew the wheels of government in the past had worked very slowly, if at all. The ship will be gone, she thought, before she would get an answer and so would her son's chance for a normal life. The embassy called July 23rd.

The embassy asked if she and Vidmantas could be in Klaipeda the next day. The ship was leaving July 25th, but the doctors would be able to see her son. Tatjana doesn't remember the frantic ride to Klaipeda, but she does remember the ride out to Comfort.

"On the way out, the little boat rocked so much, and the closer we got to the ship it got bigger and bigger," Tatjana said. "What a welcome sight."

Like any patient coming aboard Comfort, there was no time to prepare themselves for the fast pace of a modern trauma hospital. But for Tatjana and Vidmantas, they were hurled into what seemed like a maelstrom of activity. First stop was sick bay, where they met Ross Moquin. A quick external exam and medical history along with vital signs were done.

Moquin then requested permission to do a cat-scan. Tatjana agreed. The cat-scan took only a short while, and the results were fed into a state-of-the-art telemedicine computer where doctors could see a 3D image of Vidmantas' head in great detail. At the same time, these images were sent by satellite to the National Naval Medical Center, in Bethesda, where CDR John Stockel, neurosurgeon on duty, studied the same images and consulted with Moquin and concurred with his diagnosis and surgical plan.

Moquin then spoke with Tatjana, explaining that he could operate and help Vidmantas. He then explained each step of the operation and the risks.

"Do you want me to operate?"

"When?" she asked.

"As soon as we can set it up...Now," he replied.

Within minutes she made her decision. "Yes. Please, yes," she said.

Tatjana's head whirled, for 13 years she had waited for this moment, only daring to dream that someday it might happen. Now this unknown American doctor, with warmth and confidence, said not only could he help Vidmantas, he wanted to help, and he wanted to do it now. While Tatjana tried to catch her breath and collect her wits, lab tests were ordered for Vidmantas.

There were many preparations to make. Moquin wanted a Lithuanian doctor to observe the operation because Vidmantas would need follow-up care and Moquin wanted the doctor to know the case from the beginning. Dr. Vytas Gritkas, an American-trained neurosurgeon, was available in Klaipeda and readily agreed to help with the operation and perform the follow-up care. As soon as he could arrive, they would begin.

Vidmantas was understandably frightened. Tatjana stayed by his side, soothing him with her touch, and reassuring him in a low voice as only a mother can. Moquin and Gritkas bonded quickly and were ready to begin. It was a slow and painstaking surgery. Moquin was guided by views of Vidmantas' head on a computer monitor.

Growths of this kind have many blood vessels and each one must be sealed. Finally, all the growth was removed, leaving a hole that would fill as the boy's brain resumes its normal shape. Blood that had escaped during the operation was suctioned off, run through a machine that cleaned it, and returned it to his body. The entire procedure took seven hours, and the doctors were satisfied.

Saturday morning, Tatjana was again by her son's side. Moquin kept Vidmantas aboard Comfort for a couple of days, even though he said the danger had passed.

Meanwhile, Comfort set sail for Visby, Sweden, and a medical conference to be held there. Tatjana and Vidmantas traveled with the ship to Visby before returning to Lithuania.