As an idealistic college student, I had always wanted to make a positive impact in the world. This desire not only drove my choices about what to study, but even how I spent my free time. This drive to make a difference ultimately led me to become a camp counselor, a role that allowed me to directly see impact.
At an event for my camp, counselors were given the opportunity to register as potential stem cell donors with DKMS. Though I initially had no idea what that meant, I soon learned that blood cancer patients requiring stem cell transplants needed to find a donor who was a close genetic match—something that wasn’t always available among their family. By registering as a potential donor I would be in a position to save the life of a total stranger who was desperately in need of help.
Honestly, even though I had no real idea about the process or what was needed from me, I was already onboard. As it turned out, registering was actually simple and easy! Just some paperwork, a quick swab of the cheek, and I was on my way. DKMS gave me information and I was told that all I had to do was keep my contact information up to date and wait to see when or if I would be contacted as a potential match.
Years went by and I had almost forgotten about my registration, when one day in early 2022 I got a call out of the blue and that distant memory suddenly became an immediate reality. DKMS reached out (not only by phone, but by email and snail mail too) to let me know that I was a potential match for someone in need of a stem cell transplant. I answered some basic screening questions and got to ask some of my own questions too: What would this process be like? How long would it take? Where and how would I do the donation? How long would recovery last (aka would I be able to go to camp that summer)?
Many of these questions were easily answered, with DKMS taking care of scheduling appointments, arranging follow-up, and coordinating my schedule. Others however proved frustratingly elusive — I’d have to wait and see for timing, location, and method of donation. I was caught in a bit of a limbo, but the unknown aspects turned out to all be due to the needs, health, and timeline of the patient who would receive my donation. After speaking to friends and family and thinking about the impact this act could have, I decided to move forward in the process despite the uncertainties.
Over the next few weeks I filled out screening questionnaires, had blood tests, and took some physical exams. With each step of the process I became more excited about the opportunity to donate, anxiously awaiting the results of the tests and hoping that I would be eligible. My day-to-day life went on, but the potential donation was always in the back of my mind, along with that person, somewhere out there, on the other side of this equation.
In many ways, the process felt similar to preparing for camp, in particular my first summer! I was learning and getting training, but I still didn’t know exactly what to expect once everything really started. I felt nervous butterflies, hoping that I would be asked to serve and be able to be part of this program, but at the same time, everything felt so abstract. People told me that what I was doing could save a life and that I was putting the well-being of others before myself, just like how a trainee counselor is taught to prioritize the camper experience and center their needs. Still, in the same way camp and all our counselor training only really makes sense once the kids arrive, the donation experience felt incomplete and opaque while it remained so focused on me and my needs. When we reached the next step of the process though, that all changed.
I finally got the news I had been waiting for—I was a confirmed match and we were ready to move on to the actual donation. At this point, the real purpose of everything I had done leading up to this moment was suddenly made clear. All of the buzz of activity that had surrounded me went quiet and the focus was now solely on the recipient and their health. The timing for the donation would be determined based on their treatment plan and when it had the best chance of success. Tentative dates came and went, and the life and death consequences of what I was doing became increasingly clear to me. I felt a deep sense of how surreal this all was and profound hope that I could help. I can’t imagine how that long month felt to the recipient and their family.
Ultimately, a date was scheduled and both the recipient and I began preparing for the procedure. As I would be donating by via peripheral blood apheresis, a simple procedure similar to platelet or plasma donation, I started taking a medication to boost my blood stem cells. At this point in the countdown, everything in my life began to revolve around the donation—giving myself twice daily injections in my kitchen and isolating myself to guard against covid.
The day of the donation itself was a blur, but I found it to be an enjoyable process—even fun at times, as strange as that may sound. Like any long-developed plan, it was amazing to see everything come together and the feelings of relief, gratitude, and hope melded together into something like euphoria. The procedures were clearly explained, I got great care throughout, and was out of the hospital the same day. I’m still amazed that spending just a few hours connected to a machine could give someone a second chance at life.
Leaving the clinic, I got instructions for aftercare and follow-up. Over the next few days, I remained in close contact with my DKMS coordinator, who made sure that I was safe and recovering. Within days, I was back to normal and hoping my cells were doing their job for the recipient, wherever and whoever they are. It felt surreal to have done this lengthy, semi-complicated, incredible thing, and at the same time already feel it beginning to recede into the past. This surreal and unexpected experience certainly ranks among the most meaningful days of my life, and yet in the immediate aftermath I found myself with little time to truly dwell on it…after all, the first day of camp was just two weeks away.