I never thought I would be here. Not here on earth. I am still here, thankfully. I mean here—in this position—authoring this article. Reaching out. Asking for help. Telling my story not because I want to, but because I have to. Because my life, literally, depends on it. My name is Don Schmidt. I am 63 years old. I have spent four decades working in the book publishing industry. I have built a life around stories—around helping others share their knowledge and passions with the world. But this story? This one is personal. And it is the hardest story I have ever had to tell. Three years ago, I went on dialysis. Chronic Kidney Disease had crept into my life like a slow, silent storm—no thunder, no lightning. Just a gradual weakening, until one day I could not ignore it anymore. My kidneys failed. And now, three days a week, four hours at a time, I sit tethered to a machine that keeps me alive. It does the job my kidneys can no longer do. But it is not living. It is surviving. And I do not want to just survive. I want to live. I want a second chance. That is where you come in. Dialysis is not a cure. It is a holding pattern—a lifeboat in rough seas. For those of us on it, it means reshaping our lives around a schedule we did not choose. It means fatigue, dietary restrictions, painful needle sticks, fluid restrictions, and the looming cloud of the unknown. Every day, I wake up and wonder: How long can I keep doing this? The truth is, the best outcome—the only real way off dialysis—is a kidney transplant. That is why I am writing this. I am looking for a living kidney donor.

You might be thinking: Why a living donor? Can’t you just wait for a kidney from someone who has passed away? The answer is yes—but the wait is long. Too long. In most regions, the average wait time for a deceased donor kidney is 5 to 10 years. I am in year three of dialysis. I am doing what I can to hang on, but dialysis takes a toll, physically and emotionally. And let me tell you something else: kidneys from living donors last longer. They function better. They give people like me—people who still have more life to live—the best shot at truly getting back to life. If you are healthy and have two functioning kidneys, you could be the person who makes that possible.

I know it’s a huge ask. It is not like borrowing a book or a cup of sugar. It is asking someone to undergo surgery—to give a part of themselves to save someone else. But let’s talk facts. A person can live a full, healthy life with just one kidney. Living kidney donation is done laparoscopically, with a relatively short recovery time. Most donors are back to work within weeks. And donor safety is the number one priority throughout the entire process. You do not have to be an exact match to help me. That is the power of the National Kidney Registry’s paired exchange program—commonly called the kidney swap. Here is how it works: Let us say you want to donate to me, but our blood types are not compatible (mine is A+). Instead of being turned away, you are entered into a national registry of people who are willing to donate. Your kidney could go to someone else in need, and in turn, a matching donor gives a kidney to me. It is a swap—a chain of hope, a ripple effect of life-saving generosity. You can be the link that saves me, even if we are not a match.

Now let us walk through what becoming a donor actually involves. First, you will contact the transplant center—mine is Porter Adventist in Denver, CO. You tell them you are interested in donating a kidney to Don Schmidt. You will fill out a brief health questionnaire. If you are a good candidate on paper, you will be invited for blood tests, urine analysis, and imaging. If all that looks good, you will undergo a full day of evaluation—an EKG, chest X-ray, more labs, consultations with doctors, nurses, psychologists, and social workers. The whole point is to make sure this is safe—for you. No one will pressure you. You can opt out at any time, no questions asked. It is confidential. If you pass all the testing and choose to move forward, surgery is scheduled. Your kidney is removed laparoscopically—small incisions, quick recovery—and transplanted into me or into another recipient through the swap program. You stay in the hospital for a few days, then go home to rest. You will have a dedicated team monitoring you for weeks afterward. And you will be a hero—for the rest of your life.

There is a lot of fear and mystery around organ donation. People ask: Will I still be healthy with one kidney? The answer is yes. Will I be able to work, travel, exercise, eat normally? Yes. Do donors regret it? The overwhelming answer is no. In fact, most donors say it is the most meaningful thing they have ever done. I have talked to people who have donated—mothers, brothers, friends, even strangers—and they all say the same thing: If they had another kidney to give, they would do it again. And that is what gives me hope. Even though I am in a fight—facing both Chronic Kidney Disease and metastatic Stage 4 prostate cancer (yes, the two-front war I’ve written about)—I believe in the goodness of people. I believe someone out there has it in their heart to save a life. Maybe that someone is you.

You do not have to live in Colorado to be my donor. Testing can be done near you, wherever you live in the United States. The transplant center will collaborate with you to cover travel and lodging. You do not pay for the testing or the surgery—that is all covered by my insurance. And again, even if you are not a match, the kidney swap program opens the door. The most important thing is taking that first step. Saying: “I want to see if I can help Don Schmidt.” That step could set a life-saving process in motion. I know this is not easy. Life is busy. We all have responsibilities, obligations, fears. But I am asking you to consider something beyond the ordinary. I am asking you to consider being a hero. Not in the comic book sense. In the real-world, flesh-and-blood, life-saving sense. I am asking you to be the reason someone—me—gets to keep going.

I have more I want to do. More I want to write. More I want to give. I am not finished yet. But I need help to stay in the fight. And help is out there. If you are healthy, 18 to 65, and have the will to explore this, I hope you will consider being evaluated. If you are blood type A or O, we might be a direct match. If not, we can still make it work through the paired exchange. If you are not able to donate but want to help, please share this message. You never know who might see it. Someone in your circle could be my miracle.

So this is my story. My call. My plea. Your chance to be a lifesaver. Not a metaphorical one. A literal one. For me. Don Schmidt. The Book Kahuna. I have spent a lifetime supporting authors, building dreams, and believing in the power of the written word. Now I am hoping those words might bring me the biggest gift of all: more time. Thank you for reading. Thank you for caring. And thank you—whether you are a donor, a sharer, or simply someone who took the time to hear me out—for walking beside me on this journey. You might just be the person who saves my life. And if you are—I will never stop thanking you!

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