By Tim Gaspar
My friend Doug needed a kidney.
I found out in the most 2020s- way possible: a group text. I’ve heard of people using text messages to break up, quit their jobs, even propose marriage – so I suppose asking for a kidney was the next logical step.
When I saw the message, my first thought was, “Hey, I’ve got one of those!” as if someone needed to borrow a hedge trimmer or one of those new Blackstone grills (which really are super cool, by the way). So I replied with an enthusiastic, “Sure!”
Within minutes, Doug called me to see if I was kidding. I wasn’t. I had only thought about it for maybe 30 seconds, but my answer was real. I’d like to think I would have said “yes” to anyone—but Doug is a special guy.
Who Doug Is
I met Doug 25 years ago when I first started working in the insurance industry. He’s a bit older than me and became a mentor right away, but “mentor” doesn’t really capture Doug. He has one of those rare personalities that instantly makes people feel safe, seen, and welcome. He’s the kind of guy who makes the world a better, nicer place.
Two Quick Stories
Once, Doug and I went on a sales call to meet a client for the very first time. We were there for about 90 minutes. By the end of the meeting, the client asked Doug if he could watch their kids for the weekend. Let that sink in: the client had just met this man and was ready to entrust their children to him. I have never seen anything like it before or since.
Another time, my wife and I invited Doug to the baby shower for our first child. Most people would show up with a gift and maybe a joke or two. Not Doug. He quietly took over the entire event—planning, food, games, prizes, you name it. I still have the custom football jerseys he had made with our names on them for the shower games.
So yes, Doug is special. Saying “yes” to donating a kidney felt like the least I could do.
The Journey to Donation
The initial plan was for me to be part of what’s called a “kidney swap.” I would donate a kidney to someone who was a good match for me; and in return, Doug would move to the top of the recipient list and receive a kidney from another donor.
The process took just under a year—mostly because they give you the most thorough medical workup of your life. Think of it as the ultimate physical, all on someone else’s dime. Blood tests, imaging, evaluations, and a series of appointments with doctors and social workers.
The social workers’ job was to make sure I wasn’t being pressured and that I truly understood what I was doing. They also wanted to be sure I actually liked Doug enough to go through with it. At one point they said, “If you back out, we’ll tell Doug you have a terrible disease that prevents you from donating.” (They were joking… I think.)
We finally got a surgery date scheduled. About three weeks before the operation, we got unexpected news: I wasn’t just a good candidate for a swap—I was a perfect genetic match for Doug himself.
I was surprised. Doug is African American, and I am as white as Elmer’s glue covered in flour. We joke that we’re like Andy and Red from The Shawshank Redemption—two people who don’t look alike at all but end up inseparable. As unlikely as it seemed, we were a match.
Surgery Day
When the day came, we were both at UCLA Hospital in Westwood. I was on one floor; Doug was on the floor above me.
The doctors took one of my kidneys, put it in a container, and—this is how I picture it—rode the elevator up and popped it into Doug. I’m pretty sure “pop it in” is the official medical term.
I woke up in some pain, but within a few hours it was well under control. I was out of the hospital the next day. Doug stayed a few more days, but the surgery was a success.
Life With One Kidney
It’s now a little over three years later. Here’s the honest truth: my life has not changed at all because I donated a kidney. I work, travel, eat, enjoy time with my family, all exactly the same as before.
I don’t feel weaker. I don’t feel limited. The only real change is a small scar on my abdomen and a good story—plus the fact that I can now read people’s minds. (Kidding. Mostly.)
I understand why people hesitate. Surgery is scary. My family was probably more worried than I was. The transplant medical team was excellent; the risks were explained clearly; and statistically, serious complications for donors are rare. The mortality risk for kidney donors is about 0.03%. That’s roughly the same as many everyday risks we barely think about.
What Doug Got—and
What I Got
Today, Doug is healthy and living his best life. He jokes that ever since he got my kidney, he lost his sense of rhythm and can’t dance anymore so he blames me for that. Two left feet aside, he got his life back. He can work, be with his family and friends, travel, and simply live without being tethered to dialysis. That’s what a kidney gives someone: their life back.
And I didn’t just help Doug. I got something too.
Every time I see that small scar, I smile. It’s a reminder that for the cost of a few days in the hospital and a year of tests and appointments, I got to change the entire trajectory of someone’s life. That’s not a burden—that’s a privilege and the honor of a lifetime.
You Probably Have a Spare, Too
Unless you are a very special medical case, you probably have an extra kidney just sitting there in your abdomen, quietly doing its job. One healthy kidney is enough for a full, normal life.
You have the power to transform someone’s world. It might be a family member. It might be a friend. It might be a total stranger you’ll never meet. But for them, your choice could mean the difference between facing the end and a life fully lived.
If you’re even a little bit curious, I encourage you to learn more about becoming a living kidney donor at kidney.org/kidney-topics/becoming-living-donor
And if you’d like to hear directly from someone who’s done it, send me a note at tim@timgaspar.com. I’m happy to answer your questions.
