When I was 14 years old, a sonographer saved my life. It’s strange how life can change in an instant. One moment, you’re a carefree teenager, and the next, you’re facing a reality that will shape the rest of your life. For me, that moment came with something as simple as a stomachache.
It started with a sharp, constant pain in my stomach—nothing dramatic, but enough to make my parents worry. I thought it might be gas or something minor, but my parents were worried it was something more. My family doctor decided to order an abdomen scan just to rule out anything serious. I remember walking into the clinic, changing into a gown, and lying on a warm bed, waiting for the technologist to arrive. I had no idea that this routine scan would alter the course of my life forever.
The sonographer came in, applied the warm jelly to my stomach, and began the scan. At first, it felt almost soothing—the rhythmic sounds of the machine, the gentle pressure of the wand gliding over my skin. She asked me to turn over and began scanning my lower back. Her movements slowed, and she pressed harder, focusing intently on one area. Soon, another technologist entered the room. Then another. Before I knew it, there were four or five people huddled around the screen, whispering to each other. I lay there, completely clueless, my mind racing. What were they seeing? What was wrong? The sonographer gave me a reassuring smile and sent me on my way, and I figured something was up but as a careless teen just went on my way.
A few days later, my doctor called my family and me into his office. His words hit our family like a thunderclap: I was born with only one kidney—a condition known as solitary dysplastic kidney. My family was stunned. How could this be? I had no idea. I was immediately put on a cocktail of medications—blood pressure pills, cholesterol management, and more—to protect the one kidney I had. For 14 years, I lived with this reality. I took my medications, went to my check-ups, and tried to live as normal a life as possible. But deep down, I knew my kidney was fragile. And then, at 28 years old, the unthinkable happened: my kidney began to fail.
The doctors sat me down and explained what was next: dialysis. They talked about creating a fistula in my arm, about spending hours hooked to a machine, either at home or in a clinic. It felt like my life was slipping away, like my dreams of a future were being replaced by a medical routine I didn’t want. I was scared, overwhelmed, and unsure of what to do.
Then, out of nowhere, hope arrived. My uncle, my dad’s younger brother, who lived across the country in Halifax, had been quietly following my journey. Unbeknownst to me, he had been getting all his health checks, preparing himself to donate his kidney. When my family gathered to discuss my need for a donor, he didn’t hesitate. “I’ll do it,” he said, without a second thought. Within a few months, he was in Toronto, lying on an operating table, giving me the ultimate gift. On February 11, 2015, I received his kidney in a successful transplant. The surgery was a success, and with it, I was given a second chance at life.
That gift allowed me to live fully again. I became a father to two beautiful children, grew in my career, and built a life I once thought was out of reach. Most people I meet today would never guess I had a transplant. I carry my uncle’s kidney with pride, a constant reminder of his selflessness and love. This year, I celebrated my 10-year “kidneyversary.” I feel stronger, healthier, and more grateful than ever. But I know not everyone is as fortunate as I am. So many things had to align perfectly for me to be here today—the sonographer who noticed something unusual, the doctors who guided me, and my uncle, who gave me the ultimate gift.
To all the imaging technologists out there: you are unsung heroes. Your attention to detail, your care, and your dedication save lives. You saved mine. That sonographer who scanned me all those years ago didn’t just do her job—she went above and beyond. She noticed something that could have easily been missed, and because of her, I’m here today. I wish I could thank her. I wish I could tell her how much her thoroughness meant to me, how it set me on a path that led to a second chance at life. But I don’t know who she is or where she might be now. So, instead, I’ll say this: if you’re an imaging technologist, know that your work matters. You make a difference every single day.
It’s amazing how life comes full circle. Today, as I dive deeper into the Diagnostic Imaging space and learn more about the incredible work these professionals do, I’ve made it my mission to advocate for them. They deserve better working environments, fair wages, and the recognition they so rarely receive.
This is my story—a story of fear, hope, and the incredible power of love and science. It’s a story about the people who saved my life, from a sonographer to a selfless uncle. It’s a reminder that even in our darkest moments, there is light.
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