I learned about a largely hidden health crisis in our midst when my own body tried to kill me

Seventeen people waiting for an organ donation die each day. If not for the kindness of one of my oldest friends, I would’ve been one of them.

And since then, I’ve become involved with advocating for one public health crisis that is largely hidden from view.

On Sunday, I will be one of a few thousand runners taking part in the Gift of Life Donor Dash — 10K and 5K races at the Philadelphia Navy Yard that aim to raise awareness of organ donation and funding to support families struggling through end-stage organ failure.

I do it because it reminds me that not that long ago, this issue was something I was barely familiar with — which I’ve come to find is also true for so many others.

Two days after Thanksgiving 2020, while the world struggled with a global pandemic, I learned my body was trying to kill me.

For months prior, I was regularly sidelined by debilitating migraines, the origins of which I could never determine. The worst one sent me to the emergency room, where I learned that my blood pressure was catastrophically high and my kidneys were not functioning properly.

A stern but thorough nephrologist at the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania told me that I had focal segmental glomerulosclerosis. In layman’s terms, my kidneys had become marred by scar tissue, likely due to an autoimmune response. It’s a condition that’s irreversible. I would need a transplant within a year.

Through sheer force of will — I was too stubborn to die — I doubled my prognosis by giving up my beloved twin vices of bourbon and coffee, radically changing my diet, and exercising nearly every day. It only slowed the inevitable. My kidneys continued to deteriorate.

I had already postponed getting married to the love of my life and starting our family because of COVID-19. My illness made those major life events seem forever out of my grasp.

Despite being the son of a former Catholic nun, I’m not a person of faith. I hoped for the best and prepared for the worst, continuing to work and carry on with my life as if nothing had changed.

My illness made major life events seem forever out of my grasp.

I was told the wait list for a kidney from a cadaver was upwards of five years.

More than 100,000 people in the country, 5,000 in the Philadelphia region alone, are waiting for organ donations, according to Gift of Life, a national nonprofit with an office in Northern Liberties that supports the needs of transplant recipients and donor families.

My doctor strongly encouraged me to ask my friends and family to get tested to see if they were a match to give me a kidney.

As I waited, I entered renal failure. I became frail and bloated, barely able to walk. I spent one particularly depressing Easter with my parents where I couldn’t muster more than a few hours of weak conversation. Dialysis helped with those symptoms, but I had to spend 12 hours a week hooked up to a machine, the youngest patient in a clinic that was, coincidentally, down the block from Gift of Life’s office.

A sort of perverse calm replaced my fear as I made peace with the fact that I could die before seeing my 35th birthday, that my life could end with so much left undone.

But one of my childhood friends, with a newborn at home, turned out to be a match. And on June 14, 2023, surgeons transplanted one of his kidneys into my body.

This year, I’ll turn 35 the day before my one-year wedding anniversary, and a little over a month after the birth of my son.

I still wince every time I drive past highway billboards or see bumper stickers on which people ask for help in finding a kidney donor. I try not to take for granted this new lease on life I’ve been given.

Nor do I presume that choosing to become an organ donor is an easy decision.

I know many people are unable to serve as organ donors because of health conditions like HIV and cancer. I also respect those with personal reservations or religious objections. And I can’t imagine how difficult it might be for a family already dealing with the grief of losing a loved one to be asked about the possibility of organ donation after death.

But I sincerely hope that those who are willing and able would give some serious consideration to becoming a donor.

While there are risks associated with any procedure involving organ donation, fewer than 1% of living donors suffer kidney failure. For liver tissue transplant donors, the risk of organ failure is even smaller — 0.06%.

My donor, Mike Lindenmuth, recovered from the surgery faster than I did — he was back to work within a week after the operation. He later stood next to me when I got married as my best man, just as I stood next to him on his wedding day years earlier.

He, his wife, and his son are thriving, and I look forward to the day they all can meet my son, who wouldn’t exist without their kindness and sacrifice.

I was exceedingly fortunate that Mike was a match for me, but if he wasn’t, we had the option to explore chain donation, a process facilitated by organizations like Gift of Life that match up recipients and donors from across the country. They would’ve found a match for his kidney, and, in turn, found a match for me.

Last year, Gift of Life coordinated 947 kidney transplants, the most in the country for the ninth year in a row, which brings the organization’s total number to 21,772, a national record.

Transplanted organs don’t last forever, just about 20 years on average. By the time I’m approaching 60, I’ll likely need another one. But I wouldn’t have made it to this point in my life without it, and my family wouldn’t have added another generation.

My organ donor has allowed me to watch my son grow up. He has given me the chance to teach my son as best I can about life, to show him the finer points of Bruce Springsteen, Bob Dylan, and Martin Scorsese, as my father did decades ago.

To celebrate its 50th anniversary, Gift of Life’s goal is to register 50,000 people to become potential organ and tissue donors. One organ donor can save up to eight lives, and a tissue donor can help up to 100 people battling leukemia, lymphoma, and other diseases.

I hope it can reach its goal. Everyone deserves a second chance at life.

Vinny Vella is a staff writer for The Inquirer, covering suburban courts and crime.