In the winter, Bernard Trujillo’s car is barely warm by the time he arrives at the Lakewood DaVita Dialysis Center. He wakes up at 4:45 a.m. to leave by 6 a.m., and is plugged into a dialysis machine by 6:30 a.m.
For the 6-foot-3, self-described “big puppy dog,” the process is exhausting. In dialysis, blood is pulled out warm but processed and replaced cold, chilling the patient to the core.
Since Trujillo’s kidneys stopped working five years ago, he has plugged into a dialysis machine more than 1,500 times. For the Denver native, the process is just a treatment, not a solution. The 60-year-old is in need of a solution, and he’s not alone.
About 100,000 people across the country are waiting for a kidney, according to the Living Kidney Donor Network.
Coloradans on that list sometimes have to wait longer for a transplant. While average wait times fluctuate from place to place, most people spend four years waiting, according to the UNOS Kidney Learning Center, an online resource for kidney donations. In Colorado, that average stretches to five to seven years, depending on blood type, said Vidya Bhandaram , a kidney transplant doctor at Presbyterian/St. Luke’s Medical Center.
Five years on dialysis offers no guarantees. Heart disease and infection are complications far more likely to kill patients that are using the external blood cleaning process than the general population. Each year on dialysis, the risks increase, Bhandaram said.
Organ donation lists are geographic because a patient may have only hours to get to an operating room to receive a transplant from a recently deceased donor. To receive a kidney several factors, such as blood type and age, need to match.
Colorado’s wait time is so long because of supply and demand, officials say. There are more people who need kidneys than those willing to donate, Jessica Berry, a spokeswoman for the University of Colorado Hospital, said.
“The only way to overcome the tremendous need is to look to other possibilities,” she said. “The best option is to turn to others to donate on your behalf.”
Misconceptions about the transplant process still abound. Kidney transplant surgery is low risk: only 3 out of 10,000 patients die from complications related to the surgery. Transplants from live donors give patients a better chance of living longer and healthier lives than organs from deceased donors, Bhandaram said.
The Tuesdays and Thursdays Trujillo is not plugged into a dialysis machine, he walks the streets of Lakewood and Denver hanging up flyers, searching for “a gift from God.”
His kidney failure was sudden. He walked into his doctor’s office for a routine checkup and walked out after having an emergency rash of tests done. The results were tough to take: His kidneys were only working at 20 percent. It was another part of an unfortunate pattern in his family, many of whom have diabetes and organ problems of their own.
Symptoms for kidney failure can be subtle and difficult to distinguish from other illnesses, Bhandaram said.
“By the time you wait for symptoms, it is already too late,” she said.
Trujillo’s family has helped him in his search. Members of his large extended family sport bumper stickers spreading the word about his medical needs and helped launch a social media campaign.
Others have found success in online campaigns.
Steven Kostiuk, a longtime resident of Denver, launched a campaign with the slogan of: “I don’t need pity, I need a kidney.”
His second chance at life came from 20 years back. One of Kostiuk’s high school football teammates, Chad Logan, had seen his slogan and decided to secretly start the process of testing to make sure his kidney would match Kostiuk.
Kostiuk had Lupus, a disease he was able to manage until his kidneys dipped to only working at 6 percent capacity. His social media campaign was coupled with a message scrolled across the back of his car advertising his needs. Good news came from Presbyterian/St. Luke’s when Logan was deemed a match and cleared for the process.
After not talking for 20 years, Kostiuk’s old friend and new donor gave his reasons for donating in an email: “Little girls need dads.” Kostiuk, a father of four, was elated. After his transplant in 2016, he holds his children a little tighter, he said.
Kostiuk now helps others try to find kidneys. He advertises donation information on his car and is active in the community of donors and recipients to help people like Trujillo find kidneys. Kostiuk even has won medals in transplant recipient sporting competitions.
Trujillo hopes to be in Kostiuk’s shoes soon. But willing donors who match Trujillo are in short supply. Knowing that five years on dialysis is pushing the limits of his body, Trujillo has sleepless nights.
The stress coupled with tiredness from dialysis weigh heavy on Trujillo, but he still has hope to find a kidney.
