Diagnosed with kidney failure just before his daughter was born, a new father is seeking a living donor. Learn how you can give him a second chance at life.
It was the week of Thanksgiving. My wife was 38 weeks pregnant with our daughter — our first — and I thought I had a sinus infection.
I was wrong.
I was about to become a father. And my kidneys had stopped working.
What started as a trip to the ER turned into the moment a doctor looked at me and said words I wasn’t prepared to hear: “You’re in end-stage kidney failure.”
Our daughter arrived into a world that had suddenly gotten a lot more complicated. New parenthood is already one of the most overwhelming, beautiful, exhausting things a human being can do. We were figuring out feeding schedules and sleep deprivation like every new family does — except I was also fighting for my life, figuring out what living with kidney failure looked like and what dialysis entails.
Now, 25 to 30 hours of every week belong to a machine. That’s not an exaggeration. Hours that could be spent watching her discover the world, chasing her around the living room, working to provide for my family, or simply being present — spent hooked up to treatment instead. On top of that come the bloodwork, the doctor appointments, the constant recalibration of what “normal” looks like now.
I’m not complaining. I’m still here. But I want to be here — really here.
I want to take her to music class without calculating whether I have the energy to make it through. I want to go on a family vacation without building the entire trip around dialysis schedules. I want to be the hands-on dad I always imagined I’d be — the one who shows up, gets on the floor, stays up late for the things that matter.
A kidney transplant would give me that life back.
Living donation through the National Kidney Registry means a donor doesn’t have to be a blood-type match or even know me personally. The evaluation is free. Donors are carefully screened and supported every step of the way. And paired exchange means one act of generosity can set off a chain that saves multiple lives.
If you’ve ever considered it — or if this is the first time the thought has crossed your mind — I’m asking you to take one small step: learn more. Ask the question. See if you could be the person who changes everything for a little girl who deserves her dad at full strength.
She’s watching the world with wide eyes right now. I want to be there for all of it.
Kidney disease runs in my family. My mom needed a transplant. My grandmother spent her final years on dialysis. For them, it came in their 50s — something we watched, something we prepared for as a distant possibility somewhere down the road.
I was in my 30s when it hit me. Out of nowhere.
Since that Thanksgiving ER visit, I’ve learned a lot about my own body that I didn’t know before. I have polycystic kidney disease — both of my kidneys are riddled with cysts and have always been undersized. They were never going to hold up forever. But the combination of genetics and the physical limitations of the organs themselves created a perfect storm that caught up with me decades earlier than anyone expected.
There was no warning – just a regular week that changed the course of my life and life for my family.
I now manage my care at home through running dialysis independently with regular check-ins at my local dialysis center. It’s something I’ve adapted to — but adapting isn’t the same as living.
I’m on two transplant lists. But here’s the hard reality: I’m O negative, and O negative recipients can only receive a kidney from another O negative donor — one of the rarest blood types. That drastically limits the pool, which is why the wait for a deceased donor kidney is anywhere from 5 to 10 years. And even then, the quality of an available kidney isn’t guaranteed — meaning I could face this process all over again later in life.
A living donor is my best chance. Not just for a shorter wait, but for a better long-term outcome — a healthier kidney, a longer-lasting match, and a real shot at getting my life back sooner rather than a decade from now.
I don’t have a family member who is able to donate. So I’m asking — hoping — that someone out there might be willing to consider it.
Here’s something most people don’t know: you don’t have to be my blood type to help me. Through the National Kidney Registry’s paired exchange program, someone can donate a kidney in my name — even if they’re not a match for me directly. That donation triggers a chain that moves me up on the transplant list, bringing me closer to the match I need. One act of generosity, regardless of blood type, can change everything.
To help Jon, please contact the Cleveland Clinic Transplant Center (216) 444-2394
