When I think about all of the things I never expected to write in my life, a “transplant fundraiser campaign story” ranks pretty high on the list.
My name is David Janik, though most people know me as “JR” (a nickname tied to the 1980s drama Dallas and a story that is probably longer than this fundraiser needs to be). I’m 47 years old and I have been living with chronic kidney disease since 2013. Specifically, I was diagnosed with IgA Nephropathy, a progressive kidney disease that currently has no cure. Eventually, treatment often involves dialysis, a transplant, or both.
Most people assume the hardest part of chronic illness is what it does to the person diagnosed with it. In my experience, that’s not entirely true. The hardest part is watching the people you love carry the weight of it alongside you.
For me, that means my wife Nikki, our four children, and the people closest to us. They’ve been on this ride too — every setback, every uncertainty, every stress-filled waiting period. I may be the identified patient, but no one goes through something like this alone, especially not the spouse standing beside them through all of it.
And we’ve been through some things together.
In 2008, our second-born son, Athan, required emergency heart surgery at just five days old to correct a previously undiagnosed heart defect. Then in 2010, our daughter Jillian was diagnosed with Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome (HLHS), a severe congenital heart condition that required a series of major open-heart surgeries throughout her early childhood.
We were told there were no guarantees.
But Jilli fought hard. She grew into an energetic, funny, loving little girl and celebrated her fifth birthday — a milestone that carries enormous significance in the HLHS community. Around the same time, we had also welcomed our fourth child into the family. For a while, life genuinely felt good.
Then, in February of 2016, we lost Jillian to meningitis.
Not HLHS. Meningitis.
There really are no words big enough for that kind of loss. Anyone who has experienced it understands that grief changes the shape of your world permanently. But somehow, instead of breaking us apart, it drew us closer together. We rebuilt ourselves, our family, and our lives the best way we knew how: together.
To quote the great philosopher Huey Lewis, that’s the power of love.
And I’ve seen that power over and over again.
I’ve seen it in Nikki’s strength, patience, and unwavering ability to be the steady foundation our family needs. I saw it again recently when my brother donated a perfectly good kidney to a complete stranger so that I could move up the transplant list and receive a compatible kidney sooner when mine eventually decide they’re done cooperating.
Throughout all of this, there has never been a shortage of people willing to show up for us with their time, encouragement, support, and generosity. That has been humbling beyond words.
This next part is the uncomfortable one, because there’s really no graceful way to ask for help.
Living with chronic illness is expensive in every possible sense of the word. I’m fortunate to have good insurance, but even “good insurance” has limits. Following transplant surgery, I will need to remain in Denver for at least a month for intensive follow-up care and monitoring to make sure everything is functioning the way it should.
The funds raised through this campaign will help cover lodging, travel, meals, lost work time, medical expenses not covered by insurance, and the day-to-day realities of keeping a family afloat while navigating all of this. Most importantly, it will allow Nikki to stay with me throughout the process and hopefully give our kids the ability to visit as well.
Asking for help does not come naturally to me, but neither does walking through life alone. If you feel inclined to support us during this season, we would be deeply grateful.
Thank you for taking the time to read our story, for your support, and for being part of the community that continues to carry us forward.
