Believe it or not, I’ve had two transplants in my life. The first was from my sister, a living donor, on Dec. 12, 2023—she graciously donated half of her liver to me. Somewhere around Dec. 23, I was readmitted due to a clot in my hepatic artery. They tried to repair it with surgery, but they were unsuccessful. The clot was damaging my new liver, so at that point, I got moved to the top of the waiting list. We waited several days, and on Dec. 31, I received my second liver from a deceased donor. I was 48 years old at the time, and I am forever grateful for the gifts they both gave to me.
Around 2017, my health started going downhill. I retained a lot of fluid, felt very bloated, and became jaundiced. My sickness affected me mentally, too—they call it encephalopathy, and it affected my memory and my ability to think clearly. I felt detached from reality.
Despite being formally diagnosed with cirrhosis of the liver in 2019, for years I wasn’t “sick enough” to make it on the transplant list. Once COVID hit in 2020, I never went back to work. I just wasn’t able to. During that time, I was running my kids back and forth to school and investing all my energy into staying alive for them. In the beginning of 2023, I was worsening and it was looking terminal. Despite this, God was gentle with me, and I just had this sense that I wasn’t going to die. I just knew that I was going to get on the other side of this thing.
In early 2023, my sister began entertaining the idea of donating a piece of her liver. She prayed about it, talked it over with family, and found out she was a match. She’s my baby sister, so it was hard for me to be okay with her donating, given all the risks. But I was so thankful that she was willing.
When I found out that I’d need a second liver, I was in a war for my life. My sister had already donated, and it had failed, and then suddenly I was bumped to the top of the list. I had a hard time with that. But ultimately, you want to live. Not for someone else, like your spouse or children—YOU, intrinsically, must want to live. If not, you won’t make it.
I run in the mountains a lot, and they always say running is 90% mental. It’s so true, because our mind controls so much of what our body does and does not do. Going through this, you learn that. Your perspective matters.
You’re not guaranteed tomorrow, and we don’t know when our last day is going to be. Since my transplants, my perspective is “seize the day.” It has made me a more empathetic person, because you never really know what someone is going through physically, mentally, emotionally, or spiritually. I used to have a bit of a “savior complex,” in that I really wanted to fix things for everybody. My experience forced me to give up control, and in my case, I released my control to God. Each day I just want to love others, embrace people, and meet them where they are.
Here’s my advice. When you’re outside, look up. I would do this when I was sick, and that simple thing changed my perspective. When we’re looking down all the time, our spirit tends to go toward where we look. When we look up and out, it’s much brighter.
During my recovery, I started thinking about my donor’s family almost immediately. I had decided to wait a year after transplant to reach out, because I wanted to be respectful of mourning—but I received a Christmas card from my donor’s mother, Terry. I responded immediately, expressing my gratitude, love, and sorrow for her loss. There’s no way I could understand what her family’s been through, and I didn’t want to pretend that I did. I told her I understood the enormity of the gift that was given to me and assured her that I would always be a wonderful caretaker of it. Part of her son is underneath my rib cage right now, and I think of him and his family daily.
Because of my donor’s gift, I was able to start running again. I ran track and cross country in high school and college, so it’s something I’ve always enjoyed. I also met an incredible woman, and we got married. Between us, we have eight children. I’ve always had this idea of the woman that I’ve always longed for, and after surgery, God just put her in my life. She’s been my rock, and we’re excited about what God has in store for our lives.
I’ve always been a registered donor, but now that really means something to me. There are so many lives that can be saved by donation. Transformed. Renewed. Almost reborn, in a way. Because of donation, I got a restart—at 48, it was like I could start all over again. It was a jumpstart on life. Most of my 40s were lost to sickness, but now everything is clearer and brighter. There’s so much joy in my life.
When people are transplanted, they’re open to all the possibilities before them. Mountains can be moved and lives can be changed because of the donors who offer up the ultimate gift of life.
75 or more lives can be saved and healed by one organ, eye, and tissue donor. Sign up today!
