Across a bridge of tragedy, a connection of friendship and love

By Jessica Pasley

Sierra Sekulich, who received a double lung and heart transplant a year ago, with Kim McCulley (left), the mother of
her donor Nick Rushing, and Sierra's mom, Anna.

Editor’s note: Last November the cover story in House Organ was about Sierra Sekulich, who at the time of publication was in Monroe Carell Jr. Children’s Hospital at Vanderbilt awaiting a double lung/heart transplant. That story, written by Carole Bartoo, talked about Sierra’s irrepressible personality and the ordeal she and her mother, Anna, were going through, waiting for Sierra’s transplant.
Sierra received her transplant on Nov. 7, 2005, and now, a year later, continues to do well. This story is an update that focuses on the connections between Sierra, her mother Anna, and Kim McCulley, the biological mother of Sierra’s donor, Nick Rushing.

The victim’s name was Nick Rushing.
Anna Sekulich remembers jotting it down after seeing a news report of a fatal shooting. Her interest was not just that of a normal television viewer. In fact, nothing was normal then; she was sitting in the third floor waiting room at the Monroe Carell Jr. Children’s Hospital at Vanderbilt, waiting for word about her daughter, Sierra’s, double lung/ heart transplant. The date is indelibly fixed in her mind: Nov. 7, 2005.
Sierra’s case received a lot of attention—she was the first child to receive a simultaneous heart and double lung transplant at Children’s Hospital, and the youngest at Vanderbilt.
That same day, Nick, who was 16, died from injuries he sustained when he was accidentally shot in the head by a friend during some teenage horseplay that turned tragic. Sierra was rushed into surgery late that evening. Her transplant was completed the next day.
Sekulich had a hunch that the name she scribbled down that night would be one she’d never forget.
A week after the surgery, a stranger approached Anna. Turns out the woman was a member of the same church Nick attended. She felt compelled to share her memories of the 16-year-old.
“That was all I needed,” said Sekulich. “I told her that when the family was ready they can contact me. A week later I got a call and things just grew from there.”

Nick Rushing

“Hi, I’m Nick’s mom”
Kim McCulley is Nick Rushing’s biological mother. During this time, she was working at the Nashville Veterans Affairs Hospital, adjacent to Vanderbilt. The facilities share faculty and programs and news travels easily between the institutions. With the publicity surrounding Sierra’s transplant, many of Kim’s co-workers began putting two and two together.
“I remember my best friend, Sarah, asking if I wanted to know who received Nick’s heart. I told her ‘no, not yet,’” Kim said.
“So a week later, I told her I was ready and wanted to know. She saved copies of the stories about Sierra and brought them to my office. I read them and immediately called Children’s Hospital to ask to speak with Anna. She was not in so I left a message.”
Once Anna returned to the floor where her daughter was recovering, she was handed a note.
“I thought the name looked familiar,” Anna said. “I called her and left a message and she called me back and said ‘Hi, I’m Nick’s mom,’ and I told her, ‘I know exactly who you are.’”
The mothers met on Nov. 23, Anna’s birthday.
“As soon as she walked in, I knew it was her,” Anna said. “We just hugged and started crying. There was an instant bond. I remember trying to say ‘thank you’ – but …”
Kim picked up the thought: “There was nothing to say ‘thank you’ for,” she said. “There was no decision to make. You have a choice of donating the organs to the ground or saving people. You never think about your child dying before you. But when the representative from Tennessee Donor Services asked us, we didn’t hesitate.”
Tragically, Nick’s death was not the first time Kim had lost an adolescent child, nor the first time she had made the decision to donate her child’s organ. About a year earlier, her daughter, Desiree, who was 12, was hit by an automobile and killed while attempting to cross a four-lane road in Dickson. She says one of the sources of solace for her through dark days of mourning was the knowledge of the people who were helped by the organ donations of her children. Desiree’s organs helped seven people and Nick’s helped six. Kim says she wants to meet all the recipients of her children’s organs.

One year later – Sierra in the hospital, left, and her school picture for this year, right

A newfound fondness for eggs
“When I first saw Sierra and we hugged, I felt Nick’s heart beating in her chest against me and I felt her breath against me—I can’t explain how wonderful that felt,” Kim said.
“Sierra is Sierra regardless of what she has of Nick’s. She’s definitely one of a kind.”
Sierra and Kim finally met on Jan. 19, the day Sierra was discharged. Kim gave Sierra her son’s St. Christopher medal. Sierra wears it around her neck. She also brought pictures of Nick that now rest above Sierra’s bed.
“I was so shocked,” said Sierra. “The first thing I said was, ‘Does Nick like eggs because I despised eggs before my transplant and I ate three bowls of eggs afterwards.’
“She laughed because it was Nick’s favorite food!”
It is just one of the interesting changes that have occurred since her transplant. For instance: Sierra could not tolerate any milk products prior to transplant, but now eats all she wants. The same goes for spicy foods. The Sekuliches found out that Nick loved cheese and food with a little kick.
The families have become very close.
“We all instantly had a bond,” said Anna. “I know recipients meet their donor families, but I also know what we have is rare. Our first bond may have been transplant, but now it is way beyond that.”
Kim agrees: “I believe God realized that we needed to meet and he brought us together. We are now just one big family and it helps me. Sierra heals me.”
And for Sierra?
“I get another mommy,” she said holding onto Kim’s hand. “I get another secret keeper, another dictionary. I get everything. You can’t really put it into words.”
Then, of course, she tries anyway.
“I’d say we are like batter to fried dill pickles or a magnet to paper clips. Yeah. That’s what we are—definitely connected.”