The National Kidney Foundation's New Ad Campaign? It's a Pisser

You've heard the statistics before – maybe even read them here – but they still seem staggering nonetheless:

• According to the National Kidney Foundation (NKF), one out of every three adults in the U.S. today is in danger of developing kidney disease.

• One out of nine Americans – more than 26 million people – already has kidney disease...and most don't even know it.

• African Americans are three times more likely to develop kidney disease than the rest of the population (just my luck), Hispanic Americans 1.5 times more likely.

• Every single day, 12 people die waiting for a kidney transplant.

But here's a stat I've never heard before: the NKF says its research shows that half of all Americans don't know that healthy kidneys are responsible for creating urine.

What? How is that possible? Where did these people think urine comes from, the Pee Fairy?


OK, so maybe everybody isn't a whiz at anatomy. (See what I did there?) The NKF, always eager to educate, has taken a bold – and downright silly – approach to raising public awareness by launching a new promotional campaign this month called, "Everybody Pees."

Well, hopefully everybody, at any rate.

"Urine also happens to hold the key to catching kidney disease," says Kevin Longino, the acting CEO of the NKF. "The message may be unconventional, but it is educational and actionable: get your urine checked for kidney health."

Unconventional? For an established, conservative heath care organization like the National Kidney Foundation, that's your understatement of the month. The takeaway is supposed to be that every time you go to the bathroom to do No. 1 and something comes out, remember to thank your kidneys and make a mental note to keep them healthy. The best kind of peeing you can do, the NKF suggests, is into a cup at your doctor's office – a regularly scheduled urine test to check for kidney damage.

The way they're going about it, however, is as goofy and off the wall as it is eye-catching and oddly charming.

"We are flipping public health education messaging on its head, using humor to get out message across and foregoing scare tactic messaging," Longino declares of his campaign, developed in collaboration with Publicis LifeBrands Medicus. "We're going out on a limb with our core message on urine testing, but we need to take risks if we're going to alter the course of kidney disease in this country."

This is the root of their risk, the Foundation's two-minute animated campaign video. Careful: you may catch yourself singing the theme song in public:

"Pee is a lifesaver (yes, really)!" the video's tagline reads. "You might think urine is gross, funny or just a fact of life, but it's also the best way to find out if your kidneys are working."

Let me tell you from personal experience, you get a lot more casual and less grossed out about urine when you have kidney problems. Mostly, you're just glad to see your pee. 

For more information about the campaign, you can go to www.everybodypees.org.

While I was working on this post, our twin 15-year-old girls wandered past and fell in love with the "Kidneys Are the Coolest" sticker above. They immediately wanted posters, jewelry and T-shirts. (You have them, right, NKF?)

The Foundation may just have a winner here. As far as the twins are concerned, folks, urine.

Chain, Chain, Chain – Chain of Cool

CBS This Morning didn't mention that this is National Kidney Month when they aired this feature on Friday (March 27). But somebody there had to know, right? I mean, could the timing have been any more perfect?

I awakened to the early-morning news show to see this inspiring story of a dozen people in and around San Francisco – all strangers to each other – who helped make medical history at California Pacific Medical Center: They formed the largest "transplant chain" ever on the West Coast, a six-way exchange of kidneys.

For those of you unfamiliar with this still relatively new process, typically a person donates his or her kidney to a stranger who is a blood type and tissue match for the organ. In turn, the recipient has a relative or friend donate a kidney to another stranger in need, and (like the old TV commercial) so on and so on and so on.

There have been such chains assembled on the Left Coast before, of course, but none that ultimately gave life to six renal patients desperately in need of a transplant.

In the CBS This Morning piece, the organ donors and recipients met in person for the first time. Bring your Kleenex.

Zully Broussard, the woman who initiated the donor chain, lost both her husband and a son to cancer. She did not donate her kidney to benefit any particular person. "I just wanted them to have that quality of life," she says. "I want their loved ones to know that they're going to be around."

Oh, heck – why just talk about it? Why don't you watch this report from CBS correspondent Carter Evans for yourself?

Giving Thanks for (Pre-) Christmas Miracles

The national ESRD (End-Stage Renal Disease) Network Coordinating Center in New York,  for whom I play a very small role as a Patient/Family Engagement committee member, has released a new booklet just in time for Christmas contemplation. It's called Your Life, Your Choice: Stories From Kidney Transplant Patients and Donors.

The introduction says the publication was created "to inspire hope for End-Stage Renal Disease (ESRD) patients, their family members and caregivers...to motivate and empower ESRD patients to explore all treatment modality options, including kidney transplant."

In this time when we gather together to give thanks for our families and celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, I thought it might be nice to celebrate some rebirths as well. That's what a kidney transplant really is, you know – a rebirth, a rejuvenation, a second chance at life. A second chance to be with your family and give thanks for many more Christmases to come.

Here are just a few real stories from Your Life, Your Choice. (Because reprint rights are so hard to obtain during Christmas week, some names have been changed here. The emotions have been left completely intact.)

*          *          *

"Hello! I'm a three-year kidney transplant recipient and am feeling just wonderful! My name is Carole and I live near Harrisburg, Pa. I had reflux disease at birth culminating in ESRD when I was in my 60s.

"I remember very clearly when I faced the decision of whether to remain on peritoneal home dialysis or receive a kidney transplant. I was on the dialysis machine ten hours every night, seven days a week. It was a difficult time for both my husband and me, but we depended on our faith in God to see us through. I had an awesome personal relationship with Him, so when transplant was needed I was on solid ground with my faith and trusted in the Lord to help us.

"My energy level is way up and I sleep so well at night. It's great to be able to eat whatever I want with very few restrictions. Today I look in the mirror and my skin tone is back to normal. Wow! It just doesn't get any better than that for me.

"I wrote a memoir about my journey through renal failure and dialysis to a kidney transplant. My story is honestly written (through my darkest days) with my personal thoughts and feelings in journal entries, and it's called Transplanted to Better Health. For more information, please check out my website: http://transplantedtobetterhealth.weebly.com/.

*          *          *

"I retired from the Post Office in 2002. My wife and I planned on traveling, and we took cruises and enjoyed our retirement until I started getting sick. We found out I had high blood pressure. No matter we did, in 2008 my kidneys failed and I had to start dialysis.

"Dialysis was getting on my nerves. I was washed out after treatments; some days I could barely make it to my chair when I got home. Being on dialysis for four hours, three times a week took a lot out of life. We stopped our travel plans. 

"A few months after I started dialysis, the staff asked me if I wanted to be listed for a transplant. I was a little concerned about my age – 77 – but I said yes and did everything they asked. My wife didn't think they would give a kidney to someone my age. The people at the transplant center were wonderful, they treated us like family. The first call didn't work out, but two weeks later I had a second call: a young girl had donated her organs and I was given her kidney.

"At age 77, I feel like I've been born again. It's a new life. My wife says I am happier, too. Now we have time to go out to lunch, shopping and all the things I was too washed out to do when I was on dialysis. We are now looking forward to a European cruise.

"I would recommend a kidney transplant to anybody. It's the only doctor's office that I don't mind going to."

                      – Donnie

*          *          *

"Because of Polycystic Kidney Disease, I had been seeing a nephrologist for 17 years when he told me he was retiring due to ill health. He gave me into the care of one of the young doctors in his practice. When this doctor saw my creatinine level of 4.1 (average range for this kidney function indicator: 0.5-1.2), he handed me a list of vascular surgeons and told me to have a fistula put in ASAP – and, goodbye!

"Needless to say, I was stunned by this news. As my father had, in 1966, been Long Island's first dialysis (PD and HD) patient, I knew exactly what I was in for and decided I didn't want it! I decided to get a second opinion. At my first meeting with this new doctor, I knew he was the right nephrologist for me. He told me i was a perfect candidate for a pre-emptive transplant. He proceeded to manage my medications and diet so I could stay healthy enough to remain off dialysis while I searched for a donor.

"Next I signed with a very well known kidney transplant center in New York City. Even though I brought six altruistic donors to the center, they were all summarily disqualified. When the last donor, a girl of 24, was disqualified on the very day I was expecting to receive my surgery date, I knew that I would never have my transplant at that center.

"That same day, via online research, I contacted a transplant center on Long Island. I made an appointment to meet the transplant surgeon and his team. Immediately, everything and everyone felt 'right.' I learned more in that one meeting than I had in over a year at the other center!

"When all the test results were in, combined with those I had at the other transplant center, the team and I discussed my two donors – the last disqualified donor and my sister. We started with my sister, who I brought in to meet the team. She was tested and found to be a good match except for the fact that she was 35 pounds overweight. Instead of disqualifying her on the spot, as the other center had, the dietician and my transplant coordinator worked with her so that she could lose the extra weight.

Thus, on Feb. 23, 2009, my sister and I entered the hospital together and the transplant was done at 7:30 that morning. I remember joyously hopping up on the operating table, in great anticipation of my operation and with complete confidence in my surgeon. The doctor who invented the laparoscopic kidney removal procedure, using his own new technique, performed my sister's surgery. She has only a small scar to mark the occasion of her donation to me. 

"My care in the hospital was superb. The nurses taught me how to change my bandages, what my medications were for. I left the hospital only 48 hours after my transplant, and have not had one problem since!

"How thankful I am for this transplant, for it gave me a new life! Each morning I wake up so happy, to be able to do whatever I want and to have all the energy I need to do it – something I couldn't say for the first 60 years of my life! I can now eat anything I want and travel wherever I please. My brother, also a transplant recipient, and I attend the Transplant Recipients International Organization meetings each month in order to learn all we can to continue to keep our kidneys healthy.

"Every day I feel so blessed to be alive, energetic and happy! Whenever I speak to someone who is either on dialysis or soon to be, I tell them what a difference my transplant has made in my life. 

"Everyone who is in ESRD has a choice to make for the rest of their life. I tell them to "Choose Life" – choose transplant and LIVE!"

           – Mary

Merry Christmas, everyone. Healthy New Year.

Here's Some Kidney-Friendly Holiday Gifts – That Don't Involve Surgery

OK, so maybe a major organ may be a bit much for you to contemplate giving this Christmas.

Take your time. Give it more thought. Register as an organ donor, and we'll come around again next December.

In the meantime, if you know someone who's currently on dialysis, our friends at DaVita – the company that holds a soft spot in my heart (actually, a bit lower) because they were my dialysis provider and allowed me to write for them on their "Live Now" website, has created a Christmas list of thoughtful and appropriate presents for dialysis patients.

(If you're unfamiliar with my personal history of kidney disease, dialysis and transplantation, you may find this "Live Now" post of interest.)

Conversely, if you're the one on dialysis, you may wish to review this list, check it twice, then spend the next few days dropping broad, shameless hints about what you'd like to see under the tree.

Rather than copy the list here, allow me to direct you to DaVita's Gift-Giving Guide for Dialysis Patients.

Happy shopping. Merry Christmas. The joy of good health to you.

Click HERE to see the guide.

Give the Gift of a Kidney This Holiday Season

Hey, 'tis the season of giving, right? And what better gift could one give to anybody than a better quality of life?

Or for that matter, life itself?

This could be an appeal to you, Dear Reader, to become an organ donor. But knowing you I'm sure you've done that already.

Instead, you may remember earlier this year I introduced you here to my dear friend Lana Schmidt, one of America's great kidney crusaders and a woman badly in need of a kidney herself. (Look up "Lana Needs Your Love...and a Little Bit of Your Money" from May 25 on this blog.)

In the 12 years since a rare disease called Goodpasture's syndrome robbed her of her kidney function, Lana has been on every form of dialysis known to man. And as anyone who's been through it will tell you, getting dialysis three or more times a week, every week, can exact a tremendous toll on one's body.

Lana Schmidt, on a Kidney Crusade.

Lana is prepared, mentally and emotionally, for the kidney transplant that will dramatically improve her day-to-day living. Physically? That's the catch. She has undergone so many blood transfusions over the years that the antibodies in her system likely will reject any foreign visitor like a healthy new kidney.

The good news: there is a surgeon at the University of Illinois Chicago, Dr. Enrico Benedetti, who is willing to perform Lana's transplant with the aid of a drug called Soliris. The drug, which will block the antibodies and should allow her body to accept the kidney, has been used successfully on highly sensitized transplant candidates in clinical trials. It's estimated that one out of every three dialysis patients are similarly sensitized to transplants and could benefit greatly from this drug.

The bad, really bad, disheartening news: It will cost approximately (deep breath here) $110,000 to administer the series of Soliris treatments Lana needs prior to her transplant, and Medicare won't cover the cost because it and the FDA have approved the drug only to treat rare blood and kidney diseases. Gack.

She has appealed to her congressman and other governmental officials – no help – and pleaded with the maker of Soliris, Alexion Pharmaceuticals, who says its hands are tied. They claim they can't give free patient support with their drug for uses other than those approved by the FDA. It's a kidney Catch-.22.

Now, this is one resourceful lady. It was Lana Schmidt who had the genius moment to reach out to the nursing program at her local college and solicit students to assist her with her home dialysis treatments, giving them hands-on experience while making her daily burden easier. But Lana has run out of bright ideas for this challenge.

Now she feels she has no other option than to raise the money herself, or give up any hope of a lifesaving transplant.

Lana says she needs to set up 501c(3) tax-exempt status to collect the funds, but even that process costs about $400 she doesn't have. (Being sick for a dozen years ain't cheap, folks.) If she can't find the money to file the paperwork herself, she's hoping that an existing nonprofit group – maybe one with pro-kidney leanings – might see fit to take on her short-term cause under its umbrella.

She has even developed a text-message marketing campaign she calls "Tag, You're It!" to help spread the word about organ donation in general and her plight in particular (I told you she was resourceful). She hopes it might catch viral fire in the same way The Ice Bucket Challenge became a worldwide phenomenon earlier this year for ALS.

What she needs now, Lana figures, is to attract the interest of someone like Illinois Secretary of State Jesse White, a longtime advocate and spokesman for organ donation, or an organization such as the National Kidney Foundation of Illinois or Gift of Hope to partner with her in the effort. Whaddaya think? Anybody out there know somebody who knows somebody who might get involved?

Look at it this way: If Lana could get 10,000 people to donate $11 each, she could reach her goal. It's not impossible, or insurmountable. Even raising the 400 bucks to file the 501c(3) would be a great help.

For more information about Lana, or to make a donation, visit her website at www.lanakidneytransplant.com. She's an amazing lady, and she can use our help.


And While We're Thinking About Others: When you hit your knees tonight, I'd like to ask you to ask God to bless two other good people as well.

One is my dear friend Dave, whom I've never met. He's the cousin of one of my former editors, he lives in Idaho and we are brothers through bad kidneys who "met" by this blog.

He's been on in-center dialysis many years, and last week the technicians told him they could not perform his regular treatment: his veins have built up so much scar tissue from frequent injections that they could not gain access.

If you want to terrify someone who needs dialysis three times a week in order to live, that could do it.

Ultimately, a doctor performed an angioplasty on two spots in his shoulder and ordered special balloons that he'll place into Dave's veins in an attempt to open them up. If that fails, they may have to insert a stint. Either way, it's scary business and something no dialysis patient should have to face on top of all his other challenges. Pray for him, please.

Lisa Goich Andreadis.

Also ask for healing for another wonderful (and very funny) friend, Lisa Goich Andreadis. Lisa, whom I got to know well when we were regulars on the same Detroit radio show some years back, is a former standup comedian who also knows well life's serious side: her next book, "14 Days – A Memoir," the poignant story of the last two weeks Lisa spent with her mother prior to her death, is due out next Christmas, 2015.

Some strange malady has been affecting Lisa for well over a month. She's been sick every day. And on her last frantic trip to the ER for assistance – well, let's just say she encountered a level of cruelty and degradation no sick person ever should have to face from a staff of self-proclaimed medical healers.

I won't go into details here – not my place, not my case – but if she ever writes about it I certainly will reprint it here. For now, please just pray she gets well very soon. The world needs a healthy Lisa.

The Parable of the Party

Bewee, Birthday Girl

After months of preparation and a final 24 hours that felt like my stomach had rented a room in my throat, I pulled off my first surprise birthday party last weekend. My amazing spouse, Bewee (a contraction for "Best Wife Ever;" her parents named her Karen), turns 50 this year, and I felt such a half-century milestone deserved special recognition.

So earlier this summer I arranged a conference call between her mother, who lives about an hour away, and her sister in Nashville. The most important question I had for them was, if I do this, will Karen (a) never speak to me again (b) kick me out of our home or (c) seek to have me killed. Assured that my life was in no eminent danger, I solicited them as co-conspirators for advice on the date, location, guest list and other essential details.

Little yappy dog

Originally my mother-in-law graciously consented to have the affair at their home – which, since it once had been Karen's home, too, seemed fitting in a full-circle kind of way. But the more I thought about it the worse that idea seemed: the house sits in a pleasant but isolated suburb, their little yappy dog, Sophie, would bark herself into a coronary at all the invading strangers, and there is no parking to be had. If I could connive Karen into driving to her parents' home on a Saturday night, the sight of 30 cars wedged up and down the street might just tip her off.

Even though Karen and I live in a resort-style complex, the thought of using the property's clubhouse within walking distance from our front door never occurred to me. Hey, I don't get out of the house much around here! Praise God my frantic, breathless call to the clubhouse manager less than two weeks before the event was met with compassion rather than cackling: in the middle of wedding season, end-of-summer bashes and countless other reasons for the room to be booked, yes, the clubhouse was available for the night of Aug. 23.

Whew.

Then the real work began. Buying the decorations. Selecting the menu. Defining the guest list. At night, while Bewee was asleep. I would sneak onto her iPad and pore over her Facebook friends and Words With Friends opponents to make sure there were no obvious invitees I was forgetting. I sent out invitations and followup messages via Facebook, text and email so as to leave no paper trail. Some of those who could not attend were encouraged to call in on FaceTime or Skype at a predetermined time to deliver their birthday wishes in person.

(BTW, I had no idea how difficult it is to provide a final head count to the caterer. You know not everybody who RSVPs is going to show up, some people will show up who didn't confirm, some folks are not going to eat at all, and others can eat enough for two or three! I have a whole new respect for party planners!)

Then there was the cake. After being totally shunned by one bakery department I won't bother to mention (although it was located in a county market), God led me across the street to a Schnucks grocery store, a big chain in the Midwest. There I found a young, enthusiastic artist-slash-cake decorator who totally got my sense of humor and made my wild suggestions even better.

I figured the most memorable event of Karen's 50th year – other than the surprise party, of course – was the mishap she suffered last April when she tripped over the hose while pumping gas (don't ask), fell on the concrete and broke her left arm in three places. The accident required a subsequent operation to insert a metal plate and nine screws into her damaged wing.

How about a cake showing her left arm with the stitches? Giving the "thumb's up" sign? Holding balloons? Do you think that's too over the top?

I don't know – what do you think?

The hardest part of all, though, was simply keeping the secret. I value Bewee's opinion so highly that I frequently had to catch myself before asking her a question about the planning. "Hey, honey, how many people do you think – oops! Never mind."

To pull off the ruse, Karen's mother called her several days earlier and said she and Dad wanted to take us to a favorite restaurant, The Beach House, for her birthday. Karen leaped at the invitation. Days later Mom called again to confirm the reservation time – exactly one hour later than the start of the party, to ensure we would leave home on time.

As we're driving out of the complex, I come up with a good cockamamie story. "OH! Drat!" I exclaim. "I'm sorry, honey. I totally forgot. They want me to drop off my key to the fitness center this weekend at the clubhouse because they're changing the locks. It will just take a second." 

Bewee grumbled, but agreed. I must say, the funniest moment of the evening for me was watching my father-in-law and Karen's teenage sister, Emma, scramble over each other to get back inside the clubhouse when they spotted our car approaching.

I ran inside, made sure everyone was prepared, then ran back outside. "Honey, get out of the car for a second, please," I said. "You've got to see this!"

"We're going to be late," she muttered. "Why couldn't you have done this earlier in the day?"

Seconds later, she realized what was going on and responded just the way I had predicted. First shock, then self-consciousness, delight – and a jolt of reality.

"Does this mean," she asked, "we're not going to The Beach House?"

That may have been the only flaw in an otherwise joyous, memorable evening.

 

*          *          *

Now I told you all that to tell you this.

I was bitterly disappointed not to have a party for my 60th birthday a year ago. I told Karen as much. I realize that logistically, geographically, it would have been a near-impossible task to pull off satisfactorily. But who cares? It was my BIRTHDAY! The sixtieth! And after receiving a successful kidney transplant two years before, effectively cheating misery and death while prolonging my life, I believed something verrrry special was in order.

I held onto that bitterness and disappointment for some time, I'm embarrassed to admit. And maybe a therapist might determine the real reason I wanted to throw a party for Karen was some twisted form of passive-aggressive behavior. Whatever.

Here's what I know for certain: The whole process of arranging her surprise, right down to the tiniest detail, gave me so much more pure joy than I ever expected. I really got into it, and all the stress and clandestine work became labors of love.

I enjoyed planning Bewee's bash far more than I would have reveled in having a party of my own. Who knew? That Jesus guy, He really knew. In Acts 20:35, He tells us that it is more blessed to give than to receive.

In a society seemingly gone mad with receivers, that's a bit of wisdom always worth remembering.

Happy Birthday, Bewee.

The Darker the Organ, the Sweeter the News

As I'm certain you must know, we are smack-dab in the middle of National Minority Donor Awareness Week.

Just a minute. If you're part of America's wondrously diverse color wheel and not waiting desperately for an organ transplant in order to survive, or don't have a friend or loved one who is, why would you be aware?

That was the question Dr. Clive Callender may have been pondering in 1991 when he founded the national Minority Organ Tissue Transplant Education Program, more widely (and easily) known as MOTTEP. A professor of surgery at Howard University, Callender also established the Howard University Hospital Transplant Center in D.C., the first minority-operated center in the United States.

Here's the issue: Of the more than 100,000 people currently on the waiting list for a kidney transplant in this country (of course there are other organs, as well as eyes and tissue, but I'm partial to kidneys), at least 64 percent of them are minorities. African Americans, Hispanics, Asians and Pacific Islanders are far more susceptible to high blood pressure and diabetes than any other ethnic groups (don't ask me why), and those are the two leading causes of kidney failure.

Every 10 minutes, another patient is added to that waiting list. Every day, 18 patients die while on that list.

However, though minorities dominate the waiting list – We're No. 1! We're No. 1! –  our rate of organ donation, either as a living donor or after death, has been vastly disproportionate. Maybe we think we'll have a use for them after we're gone, or that Jesus won't want to see us all cut up like that.

The great news is, thanks to groups like MOTTEP and other education and outreach efforts, the number of minority donors has more than doubled over the past 15 years. The sobering news is, there is still so far to go.

Dr. Clive Callander

"When we started this effort, we were told that minorities don't donate organs; we've proven that wrong," Callender said in an interview with organdonor.gov. "Instead, we've learned that by overcoming common misconceptions and creating awareness about organ donation, communities come together and help take care of each other."

A single organ donor can save a dozen lives or more. And because the organ match is likely to be far more compatible with a member of the same ethnic group (again, don't ask me why – what do I look like, a transplant surgeon?), the need for minority donors is critical.

Here's the call to action, what you can do. First and most obvious, sign up to be an organ, eye and tissue donor. It's really simple and only takes a minute: you can find more information here.

Then share the message with your family and friends via email, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram or any other mode of communication you wish. (Share my blog – please!) Hey, you might even want to talk to them! And make sure you let your family know of your desire to be an organ donor, so there can be no doubt going forward.

I'm alive today because of the selfless act of one minority family who improved and extended my life through the gift of a "perfect" kidney. The more organs donated, the more lives saved: simple as that. You have the chance to make a huge difference in so many other lives. It's the next best thing to immortality.

Like Spike Lee would tell you: do the right thing.

*          *          *

Did you know there was a Hemodialysis University? Boy, their final exams must be rough!

Calling all nephrologists, fellows, dialysis nurses and dialysis technicians: ISDH, the International Society for Hemodialysis, with assistance from Network Strategies and Innovations, Inc. (NSI), is conducting a two-day "Hemodialysis University" program Aug. 15-16 at the Chicago Marriott O'Hare, its first such event in the Midwest since 2012.

The conference, "Critical Solutions for Dialysis Care," features an emphasis on home hemo, with an internationally recognized faculty on hand to conduct the sessions. Group rates are available. For more information or registration, go to ishd.org or call (800) 228-9290.

Wonder what Hemodialysis University's team mascot might be? The Fighting Fistulas?