Nils Pfenning

What was it about Nils Pfenning that captivated people so much?

Was it his status, back in 1989, as a "miracle baby," one of the first successful pediatric kidney transplant patients at Children's Hospital?

Was it the prankster in him -- fed by his passion for British TV comedies -- which led him to tell one teacher at Allderdice High School that "I prefer to be called Rusty," while telling another, "I prefer to be called Steve," resulting in some bewilderment at parent-teacher conferences?

Was it his gift for friendship, which led him to surprise a friend during a trip to Germany with the gift of a soccer T-shirt that the friend couldn't afford?

Or was it simply a sunny optimism, leavened with grit, that got him through a second kidney transplant at age 18 -- and a subsequent struggle with organ rejection -- with such charm and determination that, when he died at UPMC Presbyterian Hospital Saturday, a doctor cried when she told his parents the news?

"She had only known him for a few days, but she was in tears," recalled Dr. Nancy Pfenning, his mother. "I felt like comforting her."

The 21-year-old succumbed to a rare, non-contagious form of meningitis resulting from complications following his second transplant three years ago, said Dr. Pfenning, who donated her kidney for her son's first transplant at Children's Hospital when he was 14 months old.

At that time, pediatric transplants were relatively rare. Mr. Pfenning received his under the supervision of Dr. Richard Simmons, a pioneer in the field who had just moved to Pittsburgh from Minneapolis, she added.

What followed was a childhood full of daily immunosuppressant drugs, prophylactic antibiotics and blood pressure medications, which nonetheless didn't dampen the boy's spirits. From the age of 2, when he would entertain fellow passengers in an elevator by imitating the beeping of his IV pole, to adulthood, he loved making people laugh.

David James, now a student at the University of Colorado, remembered meeting Mr. Pfenning his freshman year at Allderdice when he was introducing himself variously as Rusty, Steve or Barney. During the course of the year "the teachers found out the joke was on them, but they saw the humor in it. He never was mean, but it was a way of testing people, to see if they really understood him.

"He never really talked about being sick," added Mr. James. "I found out one day when I was at his house and saw him swallowing 12 pills. I'm not sure if it was internalized, but he was always so upbeat even when he was choking down all those pills. He'd crack a joke right after that. He was cool, and never really stressed about anything."

Mr. Pfenning's photo also appeared on the cover of the Make-A-Wish Foundation's national report in 1995, after the organization arranged for him to realize his dream of seeing eagles in their natural habitat in Colorado and help band the birds so scientists could track them.

At Allderdice, he won a competition in a mock political election in which he created videos smearing other "candidates" for corruption -- with their consent.

A talented piano player, cook and enthusiastic soccer player with the Pittsburgh Dynamo League, Mr. Pfenning was dubbed "Pele Junior" and on regular summer trips to visit his German grandmother he'd hike the Alps and backpack around Europe, speaking German fluently and enjoying the nightlife in Russelsheim, where his father grew up.

"More people knew Nils than they knew us," his mother laughed. "He'd venture out, speaking German like a native, and meet all sorts of interesting characters."

"A friend is someone who is there when you don't even have to ask," added Matt Katz, who traveled with Mr. Pfenning in Germany and was the recipient of the soccer T-shirt gift. If Mr. Katz was upset about something, "He'd come over to my house with water, food, video games. He taught me how to be cool, to have confidence that everything was going to turn out all right."

That confidence sustained Mr. Pfenning even through the last years of his life, when his second transplanted kidney, which had been donated by his uncle, Mark Hogan, began to fail. While he initially felt energized after the second transplant and enrolled at the University of Pittsburgh, constant adjustment of his medications made it impossible for him to attend full time.

While the doctors worked to save the second kidney transplant, it was clear that the rejection was worsening. Mr. Pfenning's increased dosage of immunosuppresant drugs made him vulnerable to infection, and eventually, to the meningitis that killed him.

Nonetheless, "I can't think of a day where Nils wasn't happy and full of life and upbeat," said Ken Gormley, his uncle.

"There are very few people who get to have a life like this where it's pretty much all good -- that's a remarkable legacy for anyone."

When a social worker asked him how he coped with changes in his condition, "he told her, 'I adjust my mind to it,' " his mother recalled. While he had a large extended family to support him, "his optimism was so profuse he helped convince us that everything was going to be OK. We didn't have to try to convince him. It was the other way around."

In addition to his mother, a professor in the Department of Statistics at Pitt, he is survived by his father, Dr. Frank Pfenning, associate dean of the Department of Computer Science at Carnegie Mellon University; a brother, Andreas, 25, of Durham, N.C.; a sister, Marina, 23, of Bloomfield; his grandparents, Horst Pfenning and Margit Funke, both of Russelsheim.

Friends will be received today from 2 to 4 and 7 to 9 p.m., at Nied Funeral Home in Swissvale, with interment and service for friends and family at Homewood Cemetery tomorrow at 11 a.m.