Twenty-five years ago, Harry Kass was a college student with a full-time job and a penchant for staying up late. When fatigue set in, he figured he just needed more rest. And when a doctor at a prominent East coast cancer hospital told him he had leukemia and, at most, three years to live, denial and a New York attitude prevailed.

"I had an outburst, 'Who are you to tell me that?' " Harry said. His mother, who had accompanied him to the appointment, passed out in the exam room.

Harry, then 22, decided he'd had it with doctors and headed for the Bahamas to try a series of non-FDA-approved therapies he'd heard about from a friend.

That didn't go well, either.

"In the Bahamas I went to a dentist to get my wisdom teeth pulled, and my gums wouldn't stop bleeding," he said. There was no oral surgeon in the region, so Harry boarded a plane to return to New York for treatment. By the time he made it to a hospital, Harry had lost so much blood he couldn't stand up.

After narrowly surviving surgery, Harry was visited by a hematologist who convinced him to start chemotherapy -- and found him a spot on the waiting list for a bone-marrow transplant at Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center. At the time, the procedure was new and experimental.

"I treated that summer as my last, and I had a blast," he said. "When they called me in August to say I'd gotten into the program, I told them I wasn't interested because I was having my final summer." But, after being told a transplant would provide at least some chance of survival, he reconsidered and flew to Seattle with a sister, Heidi, who had agreed to be his caretaker. On September 19, 1983, Harry received a transplant of bone marrow from his younger brother.

"Every step of the way there was something to be grateful for at the Hutchinson Center," Heidi said. "The level of care was outstanding, but there was much more than that, from the social workers to the other families we came to know." A Center contact arranged the Kasses' housing and a part-time job offer for Heidi when funds ran low.

Harry's reputation for being difficult preceded him, but it was at the Center that he learned to cooperate in his own best interest. "For me it had to be a give-and-take thing," he said. "I insisted on being a participant rather than a hunk of meat who always did what he was told. I made deals with the nurses and physical therapists to do things my way."

"Ultimately it was the perfect environment for me, and when it was over, I was so happy to be alive. It was great to be able to drive again, or just to walk outside on a sunny day."

"The treatments were still being developed, so we both felt like pioneers the whole time," said Heidi of Harry's difficult post-transplant months. "When we got home to New York it was like a miracle. Actually, it was more than a miracle because Harry's chances of making it had seemed so low."

Except for trips back to Seattle with a bout of graft-vs.-host disease, then again for a five-year checkup, Harry stayed close to home and focused on serving others. He counseled candidates for bone-marrow transplantation and underwent training as a medic, finding fulfillment in adrenaline-powered ambulance rides to save the lives of crash victims and choking babies. And thanks to his lifesaving bone-marrow transplant, Harry was present to help his younger brother on the day he needed the Heimlich maneuver.

"Helping people is what makes life worthwhile; I could die any day now and know I've lived a full life," Harry said. "But I couldn't have said that at age 22. Also, if I hadn't lived, I wouldn't have my child." Harry vows to pass along his values to his son, now 12, and together they plan to visit every science museum in the U.S.

Heidi's life and career also changed as a result of Harry's transplant. She had worked in banking but later took a job with a pharmaceutical company, feeling strongly about the advancement of new treatments through clinical trials. Heidi donates annually to the Center, has made provisions in her will, and has visited the scientists with her daughter, Maya, to learn more about the importance and focus of cancer research. At the tender age of 11, Maya is learning about philanthropy, too. She held a garage sale benefiting Center research, lent her artwork for a Center happy-birthday card that is sent annually to donors, and in her home state of New Jersey Maya joined a human-population study on risk factors for breast cancer.

"Twenty-five years ago, when Harry's life was in jeopardy, we had to take a big leap of faith. In my family it's hard to find a medical institution we can have faith in," Heidi said. "But the people in Seattle always made us feel well taken care of -- always -- so now Maya and I will do whatever we can in support of the Center's forward-thinking science."

	2005 Patient Reunion Photo Gallery