One Match: Saving Lives One Cheek Swab at a Time

I didn't really know John, I knew of him. One of his friends had a locker near mine and I remember seeing their crew pass by as we each went about our separate high school lives. I'm sure that we shared a nod at some point but likely nothing more. It was such a long time ago...

In the fall of my Junior year I heard the rumours about a football player who got winded on the field and couldn't play anymore. He was diagnosed with leukemia. When I found out it was John, all I could think about was that image of him walking though the halls with a carefree smile.

A bone marrow drive was held, and fingers were crossed that they would find a match. But back then the bone marrow registry was a small fraction of the size it has grown to today, and no match was found. He passed away only months later. The quick progression from the start of a new school year to the end of a life, all within a 6-month period was incomprehensible to my high school mind not yet understanding the true value of time. When OneMatch, Canada's bone marrow registry, asked if I wanted to stay on the list as a potential future donor, I said yes without hesitation. And promptly forgot all about it.

The Call

Ten years later, I got a call from OneMatch, and assumed that they simply wanted to confirm my participation on the registry. Instead they were calling to tell me that I had been matched. My heart soared with a feeling a excitement and joy. Potentially being able to give another person a chance for a future was something I desperately wanted to be able to do. And then I cried. Both from the memory of John and also because I was terrified. I didn't actually think the day would ever come. They always say how hard it is to actually find a match, so it was only then that I felt the full impact of potentially having to go through a very painful experience.

The Process

I went back for confirmatory testing, was indeed a match, and then waited another year to be called on to donate. The patient requested a stem cell transplant instead of bone marrow, which is an entirely different process. It involved me getting injections for four days that produced additional stem cells in my marrow. In a really simplistic description of what happens next, there's no room for these excess cells so they leave the bone marrow and end up in the peripheral blood stream. This enabled a dialysis type machine to take out my blood, separate the stem cells, and send the rest back in for 5+ hours. The whole process took about 5 days.

I have no idea if the recipient of my stem cells got better. I had the option of finding out after a certain period and I chose not to ask. At another point in time, I will be able to ask about their identify. If they agree, that information can be released.

We Can Save Each Other

I've thought of John so much through the years. Despite not having known him, losing someone, anyone, in high school imprints on you. It's just not supposed to happen. I wonder who he might be now and if we would've ever connected with more than that probable nod in the hall. The internet was still something of a novelty back then, and as a result a web search for any information on him returns virtually zero results, except for a grainy article from the local newspaper that is pretty impossible to find. And that makes me sad. The one good thing about all this technology today is that there’s always a version of you out there somewhere. For me that's a comforting thought.

I am so sad for the loss of John, but feel a bit better knowing that at least one person got a second chance at life directly because of him.

If you want to sign up for One Match, it's pretty easy, just click here. It requires a simple cheek swab to start the process. 

Imagine a world where chances of survival after being diagnosed with leukemia or another similar condition were high, because there was a someone out there, on the registry, waiting to be matched. We can save each other. It's in our blood...