LOVINGTON - The heart of a young man beats inside the chest of 52-year-old Rick Moma.

Literally.

Moma, who teaches music at Lovington schools, received a heart transplant in January. The donor was a 19-year-old traffic accident victim whose organs and tissues saved the lives of eight people. That's all Moma knows about him.

In May 2007, on Lovington High School's graduation day, Moma wasn't feeling good but attributed it to his ongoing problems with acid reflux. The next morning, he had the first of several heart attacks, was rushed to Decatur's St. Mary's Hospital and transferred to St. John's Hospital in Springfield later that day, where surgeons put in stents to open arteries.

A few days later, Moma was sent to Barnes-Jewish Hospital in St. Louis by helicopter, where doctors hoped he could get strong enough for a left ventricle assist device, commonly called an LVAD and more informally referred to as a "bridge to transplant," a stopgap measure to keep the patient alive and strong enough to survive transplant surgery.

Moma's father had a heart attack at the same age, and Moma's doctor had just recommended he undergo tests to head off any potential problems. Moma had a stress test scheduled that would have taken place the week after the heart attack.

Because of the heart attacks, the left side of his heart was damaged beyond repair; the right side functioned at only 20 percent.

"It was pretty bleak," Moma said. "My family was called in to say good-bye to me, and they all went into the waiting room and prayed for me, and through some divine intervention, I started to improve."

It was a long, hard road. His kidneys shut down, his liver function was low, he had a fever over 104 degrees and doctors couldn't bring it down. His chances of survival were estimated at less than 20 percent.

To buy some time, doctors put Moma on a ventilator and into a medically induced coma, in which he remained for seven weeks. His 51st birthday passed while he was in the coma, and he can joke now that the family "had a nice birthday cake" in his honor, even though he couldn't participate.

"We had family there with us all the time," said Moma's wife, Laura. "My mom ended up staying with me down there through the end of August. She was with me every day."

Other family members came and went, and Laura Moma's two daughters, now 20 and 17, kept the home fires burning, with help from family and friends. Rick Moma has a daughter and a son who are the same ages as his wife's children. It's a second marriage for both.

Laura Moma was in her husband's hospital room by 7 a.m. every day, to be there when the doctors did rounds. She learned a lot about the equipment in that time.

"I could tell you what every monitor meant and what it was doing," she said. "I knew when I needed to get excited and when it was just a beep and everything was OK."

When Moma was strong enough, doctors implanted the LVAD and he was able to learn to walk and speak again after all those weeks in the coma. The device includes two battery packs worn on a harness and a control pack, and Laura Moma had to learn to change batteries and what to do if an alarm sounded.

Moma had intended to go back to work teaching in the second semester of the 2007-08 school year, and his doctors had given the OK, because he knew that chances were he'd have to wait a long time for a donor heart. On Jan. 2, the Momas were informed by telephone that he had been moved to the top of the list and on Jan. 7, the call came, catching them off guard. They'd made a trip to Decatur to fill some prescriptions, and when they walked in the door at home, the phone was ringing.

The Momas made it to St. Louis by noon, and at 5 p.m., Rick Moma was in surgery. He came home at the end of January, and looking at him now, you'd never know how close to death he was. His color is good, and he walks four miles every day.

His attitude toward life's little frustrations has changed, too.

"He was pretty uptight before," Laura Moma said. "He has changed quite a bit. He's more easygoing, and we're enjoying every moment we can as a couple. Even with the transplant, it's still day to day. You have to take every moment while you can."

Moma takes his blood pressure, temperature and blood glucose levels twice a day. He's not diabetic, but the anti-rejection drugs can raise blood sugar. He also watches his diet and cholesterol, but has no restrictions on his activity.

"I'm amazed every day I get up," he said. "I thank God for every day. Life is too short. I have changed and I have been changed, and I don't let things here at school bother me like they used to. I just feel very fortunate I've gotten a second chance, and I'm not going to blow it."

vwells@herald-review.com|421-7982