Sweet show of support

More than 30 years ago, the Potito family boarded a plane in Italy bound for America, guided by little more than their hopes and dreams to take on the challenges of a new world.

Carmen Potito was only 12 years old when his family came to America, but through hard work and dedication, he eventually was able to open his own business, which has been a South Philly institution for the past 19 years.

Now, the owner of Potito’s Bakery, 1614 Ritner St., is relying on hope again, this time as he battles a life-threatening illness.

The 45-year-old baker was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia — the most aggressive form of the disease — more than a year ago, and is in need of a bone-marrow transplant to survive.

When initial tests revealed there were no matches in Potito’s immediate family, countless other relatives and friends offered to get tested as well.

The deluge of concern inspired Potito’s cousin Isabella Corcoran to organize a bone-marrow drive, which will be held Sunday in St. Monica’s gym, 16th and Shunk streets.

More than 100 people already have signed up for the drive, "and more keep on calling me every day," Corcoran said.

"Carmen’s very well known down here. He’s a very generous guy and a lot of people want to support him," she said.

Participants in the drive also will be registered in the Red Cross National Marrow Donor Program and, in doing so, might have a chance to help someone else in need of a transplant.

Although the national program has 5-million potential donors, trying to find a perfect match outside of one’s immediate family is difficult.

"It’s important that everyone who comes out this weekend has their mind made up that this is something they would go through with," said Alice Kaplan of the Red Cross. "People pin a lot of hope on finding a matching donor."

Indeed, family members say Potito’s spirits have been buoyed by the buzz surrounding Sunday’s drive, even though he remains confined to his room at Thomas Jefferson University Hospital.

"He gets emotional when we tell him how people have responded," said Potito’s daughter, Cristina, 21.

Neighboring businesses like Cacia’s Bakery and Primo Hoagies allowed the family to hang signs and posters about the marrow drive in their windows, and patrons from both shops have signed up to donate.

Cristina recalls being devastated when routine bloodwork in April revealed that her father’s leukemia had relapsed, although she, too, has found strength through all of the neighborhood support.

"He was doing so well at the time, you wouldn’t have known he was sick," she said. "Honestly, we were shocked, even though we knew there was a 50-percent chance that it could’ve come back."

Potito had been in remission for six months when the leukemia returned.

It has been hard for Cristina and her sisters — Nicole, 17, and Brianna, 12 — and their mother, Maria, to watch Carmen struggle with his illness and the grueling side effects of chemotherapy, but it also has educated them on the plight of cancer sufferers everywhere.

"I had always heard about leukemia and bone-marrow transplants, but I was under the impression it’s easy to find a match," Cristina said. "We never thought it would be this hard. You don’t know until it happens to you."

The family has since committed itself to dispelling some of the myths surrounding bone-marrow transplants.

"People think [transplants] are barbaric, but they’re not," Corcoran said. "The more people know about it, the less they have to fear."

Indeed, the transplant process is much harder on the recipient than it is on the donor.

Bone marrow — the spongy tissue inside of bones that contains stem cells used to produce the body’s white and red blood cells — is removed with a needle through the rear hip bone, where most of the body’s marrow is located.

Doctors typically take 7 to 10 percent of a donor’s marrow in the procedure, which is done under anesthesia and without any surgical incisions.

"Donors don’t feel anything [during the procedure] and, afterwards, most people say they feel stiff or sore for a couple of days," the Red Cross’ Kaplan explained.

Before a patient can receive the transplant, original bone marrow must be destroyed through rigorous doses of chemotherapy and other drugs.

After the transplanted marrow is infused intravenously, recipients must wait for two to four weeks to find out if the marrow has engrafted itself into their bone cavities and begun producing healthy blood cells.

While they wait for their new marrow to take effect, recipients are left precariously without an immune system. They are extremely vulnerable to infections, the smallest of which could quickly become life-threatening.

"It’s not an easy road, but the flip side is recipients have a chance at a healthy life again," Kaplan said.

Participants in Sunday’s drive will not have to immediately worry about undergoing the transplant process.

Red Cross officials simply will draw small amounts of blood from the volunteers to "type" them — identifying the six numbers doctors use to determine if donors are a match.

Once typed, a donor’s numbers go into the national registry and are considered for use until the donor turns 60.

The Potito family is approaching the marrow drive with guarded optimism — "We realize the chances are slim," Corcoran allowed — but is willing to try anything to save a vibrant member of the family and the community.

"My dad’s always been there for us. He never forgot about his family," Cristina said, her voice wavering with emotion as she told of her father frequently bringing home flowers for his daughters.

Maria Potito, who has worked alongside her husband in their popular bakery, told a TV news reporter on Monday, "He’s my husband, the father of my children, my soul mate."

"We’ll all be there Sunday," daughter Cristina said. "And if you can’t help my dad, hopefully you can help someone else."

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The bone-marrow drive inspired by Carmen Potito will be held this Sunday in St. Monica’s gym, 16th and Shunk streets. It will start at 10 a.m. and run as long as necessary. There is a $25 typing fee, which is tax deductible. For more information, call Isabella Corcoran at 215-499-7257.