By Jana Mattheu
As a mother of a son who relies on plasma-derived medicines, I know what it feels like to sit in a doctor’s office and hear that your child has a lifelong rare condition.
When my son was young, he started getting sick in school. I thought it was just a normal parade of childhood illnesses. Yet it often ended in pneumonia. We tried everything the doctors suggested. Antibiotics. Hospital stays. We agreed to have his adenoids removed, hoping that would finally help. Nothing worked. Until we were eventually given a diagnosis: common variable immunedeficiency, or CVID.
We learned that my son’s body cannot produce the antibodies he needs to fight off infections. A simple cold isn’t simple for him. Without treatment, everyday germs can become serious and even life-threatening.
His effective and frankly lifesaving treatment is immunoglobulin (IG) therapy made from human plasma, which protects him from germs his body can’t fight on its own.
Within 24 hours of receiving his first treatment, he was a normal 7-year-old boy again — running around the house, wrestling with his brother and our dog. He was like a plant finally getting sunlight and water.
People don’t know what CVID is because it is rare. They don’t understand the treatment. His medicine cannot be created synthetically; it comes from willing plasma donors.
Because of plasma donors, my son is now 23 years old, working and living on his own. He can plan for his future because of his weekly IG infusions. Every infusion he receives represents the kindness of strangers who decided to giveso someone like my son could stay healthy.
When stories about plasma donation exclude voices like those of my son –those who feel the utmost gratitude for the heroes that save countless lives – I worry that families like mine are being forgotten. To us, plasma is deeply personal. My son, and thousands of others living in the United States, are alive and thriving because someone chose to donate plasma.
As a mother, I ask anyone reading this: please consider becoming a plasma donor. Learn about it, ask questions, and visit a certified center. Your time could mean the difference between sickness and stability, isolation and opportunity, and fear and hope.
For my son, plasma is not just medicine. It is his lifeline.
Jana Mattheu lives in the greater Baltimore area.