Selfless act unites familiesMacedonia father who received kidney, stranger from Hudson who donated it celebrate gift of life this holiday season
By Cheryl Powell
Beacon Journal medical writer
Published on Saturday, Dec 25, 2010
This Christmas Day, Roy Riggar believes in angels.
His angel's name is Lynn.
For three long years, the 52-year-old husband and father of two waited for a donated kidney to replace his own after years of damage from diabetes rendered them useless.
Today he's celebrating the ultimate gift from a stranger who entered his life just when he needed her.
''God did it for some reason,'' he said.
The Macedonia man's plight started 14 years ago, when the otherwise fit, healthy man was diagnosed with diabetes.
It's a family curse he knows all too well.
His mother died at age 37 from complications from uncontrolled blood-sugar levels that contributed to heart problems. His sister followed, dying when she was 47.
Realizing the risks, Riggar took steps to keep his diabetes in check. He ate well and stayed active. He quit smoking and stopped drinking. He kept his weight constant at 145 pounds — the same amount he weighed when he graduated from the old R.B. Chamberlin High School in Twinsburg in 1976.
Still, all his efforts weren't enough to stop the disease from silently ravaging his kidneys. By 2004, blood tests showed the organs were beginning to fail. Complicating matters, one of his kidneys was extremely undersized, possibly from a childhood illness or undetected injury.
Doctors warned him he'd eventually require dialysis to take over the blood cleansing his kidneys would no longer be able to perform.
In July 2007, his kidney function dipped below the critical 20 percent mark and he qualified to get on the waiting list for a new organ through the transplant program at the Cleveland Clinic.
Nine family members and friends stepped forward to be tested, but none was a match.
Within two weeks, he got his first call that there was a chance to receive a kidney from a person who had died.
''Be ready,'' his transplant coordinator told him. ''We'll let you know.''
Riggar shook with disappointment when he got a follow-up call at work telling him the transplant wouldn't go forward. Two other patients were better matches for the donor's organs.
In September 2009, his wife, Debra, was prepared to donate one of her kidneys to a stranger in exchange for Riggar getting one from the other patient's relative. But the paired donation fell through, too.
The following month, he needed to start dialysis.
So every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, Riggar arrived at the Center for Dialysis Care in Shaker Heights by 4:45 a.m. He spent the next four hours hooked up to a dialysis machine to filter his blood.
Afterward, he went without fail straight to his job as general sales manager at Adventure Chrysler Jeep Dodge Ram in Willoughby, where he worked 60-plus hours a week.
Dr. David Goldfarb, surgical director of the renal transplantation program at the Cleveland Clinic, was impressed. During their appointments, Riggar struck him as a ''go-getter'' with a good attitude — attributes that tend to contribute to a faster recovery after surgery.
''I've never seen a more dedicated person than Roy in terms of his employment,'' Goldfarb said. ''Dialysis wipes you out. Most people are extremely fatigued.''
In the spring, a reporter from the Record Publishing chain of weekly newspapers requested an interview with Riggar after hearing about his ordeal.
At first, Riggar resisted. A private man, he'd told only his boss and closest friends about his medical problems.
But his wife and two adult daughters urged him to share his story in hopes of finding a donor.
''That's far-fetched,'' he said, but agreed to talk anyway.
Call to service
Around that same time, Lynn Donnan sat in a weekly service at Hudson Community Chapel. She listened as the pastor encouraged members of the congregation to use their God-given gifts.
Touched by the message, the 46-year-old Hudson woman struggled to figure out her gift. Then a thought crossed her mind: ''I have my health.''
The wife and mother of three daughters had signed up 13 years ago to become a bone marrow donor but had never been called.
She remembered her days at her former job at the Cleveland Clinic, where she ran the heart-lung machine during heart and lung transplant surgery. She had seen the devastation on patients' faces when potential organ donations didn't work out at the last minute.
Please, she prayed, let an opportunity come along to help someone.
A short time later, she found her answer.
While catching up on reading several back issues of the Hudson Hub-Times newspaper, Donnan was drawn to a picture of the Riggars and their small black poodle, Rex. As she read the accompanying article about Riggar's quest for a new kidney, she discovered he shared her blood type — one of several key criteria to be a donor.
She knew she'd be a match.
Donnan showed the article to her husband, Craig, and their three daughters, Kirsten, 19; Megan, 16; and Payton, 13. She asked what they thought about her getting tested as a possible donor.
''Well, if you don't match, could I match?'' Kirsten asked.
Those words were all the encouragement she needed.
After preliminary blood tests in May, Donnan was told she appeared to be a good candidate. She then underwent two days of more comprehensive tests in July and spoke with a bioethics doctor at the Cleveland Clinic, who determined her intentions were purely altruistic.
Throughout the process, Donnan never had second thoughts. Her conviction was confirmed when she saw a wedding notice for one of Riggar's daughters and discovered he attended the same large, nondenominational church as her family.
''It was meant to be,'' she said.
Help from a 'friend'
For months, Riggar knew nothing about Donnan's intentions.
He was driving to work after dialysis treatment one morning in mid-September when Kathy Reilley, a case manager and registered nurse from his insurance company, Medical Mutual of Ohio, called.
''Congratulations!'' she said.
''For what?'' he asked.
''You're getting a kidney!''
''You've got to be mistaken,'' he replied.
''A friend's giving you a kidney,'' she insisted. ''Lynn.''
Riggar knew it had to be a misunderstanding. He didn't have a friend named Lynn.
But when he called his transplant coordinator at the Cleveland Clinic, he found out an unidentified donor — a woman named Lynn — had indeed come forward to give him a kidney.
He couldn't understand why a person he didn't know would show so much kindness.
His family kept asking him: Who is she?
''I can't imagine,'' he replied.
As plans moved forward for the surgery, he didn't learn anything more about his donor. To Riggar, the woman offering him a kidney was simply known as ''My Angel Lynn.''
A few times a year, the Cleveland Clinic gets calls from people who offer to be tested as potential donors for patients they don't know after hearing about their struggles, said Audrey Caplin, a registered nurse and the hospital's living kidney donor coordinator.
The recipient's insurance covers all the medical testing, the surgery, hospitalization and follow-up care related to the kidney donation for donors. Potential donors go through extensive testing and an education process before signing their consent to go forward.
In those cases, the donor is typically kept confidential, Caplin said. If both want, the donor and recipient can meet, but only after the transplant.
On the morning of the surgery in October, Riggar and Donnan were taken to separate operating rooms, where one transplant team removed her left kidney while another team prepared him for the donation and then placed the kidney.
Both procedures went without complications.
''The kidney worked immediately,'' said Goldfarb, Riggar's transplant surgeon.
As he awoke, Riggar thought of the angel he still hadn't met.
''How's Lynn doing?'' he asked.
Donnan stayed in the hospital for two days, and Riggar went home two days later.
Other than avoiding ibuprofen and similar medications, Donnan hasn't had to make any changes to her life because of her missing kidney.
When they talked after the operation, the Cleveland Clinic's living kidney donor coordinator asked Donnan whether she would do it all over again.
''Sure,'' Donnan answered without hesitation. ''No doubt.''
''She's a great person who did a great thing,'' Caplin said. ''She gave the ultimate gift — a gift of herself, a kidney. It was extraordinary. It's always extraordinary, but this was a gift she gave without obligation. She's an exceptional individual.
''She's an angel.''
Saying thanks
Donnan followed Riggar's recovery through a blog set up by his family.
About a month after the surgery, the two finally met at a lunch arranged by the Cleveland Clinic.
Riggar struggled to find the right words. What do you say to someone who has given such a precious gift without any expectations?
And so he simply said, ''Thank you.''
Looking back, Donnan said the experience has been good for her, too.
''It's changed what I do and made me realize more about my purpose in life,'' she said. ''It's made my faith stronger.''
Forever joined by Donnan's generosity, the two families plan to get together for dinner to celebrate the holidays.
And next year, Riggar will have a new holiday to celebrate: his second ''birthday'' on Oct. 27, the anniversary of the day he got a kidney from his angel, Lynn.
''Life is good,'' he said.
Cheryl Powell can be reached at 330-996-3902 or chpowell@thebeaconjournal.com.
Hudson resident Lynn Donnan (left) with Roy Riggar at Riggar's home in Macedonia, Ohio. Donnan donated one of her kidneys to Riggar after reading about his need in a local newspaper. (Phil Masturzo/Akron Beacon Journal)
View more photos>>
This Christmas Day, Roy Riggar believes in angels.
His angel's name is Lynn.
For three long years, the 52-year-old husband and father of two waited for a donated kidney to replace his own after years of damage from diabetes rendered them useless.
Today he's celebrating the ultimate gift from a stranger who entered his life just when he needed her.
''God did it for some reason,'' he said.
The Macedonia man's plight started 14 years ago, when the otherwise fit, healthy man was diagnosed with diabetes.
It's a family curse he knows all too well.
His mother died at age 37 from complications from uncontrolled blood-sugar levels that contributed to heart problems. His sister followed, dying when she was 47.
Realizing the risks, Riggar took steps to keep his diabetes in check. He ate well and stayed active. He quit smoking and stopped drinking. He kept his weight constant at 145 pounds — the same amount he weighed when he graduated from the old R.B. Chamberlin High School in Twinsburg in 1976.
Still, all his efforts weren't enough to stop the disease from silently ravaging his kidneys. By 2004, blood tests showed the organs were beginning to fail. Complicating matters, one of his kidneys was extremely undersized, possibly from a childhood illness or undetected injury.
Doctors warned him he'd eventually require dialysis to take over the blood cleansing his kidneys would no longer be able to perform.
In July 2007, his kidney function dipped below the critical 20 percent mark and he qualified to get on the waiting list for a new organ through the transplant program at the Cleveland Clinic.
Nine family members and friends stepped forward to be tested, but none was a match.
Within two weeks, he got his first call that there was a chance to receive a kidney from a person who had died.
''Be ready,'' his transplant coordinator told him. ''We'll let you know.''
Riggar shook with disappointment when he got a follow-up call at work telling him the transplant wouldn't go forward. Two other patients were better matches for the donor's organs.
In September 2009, his wife, Debra, was prepared to donate one of her kidneys to a stranger in exchange for Riggar getting one from the other patient's relative. But the paired donation fell through, too.
The following month, he needed to start dialysis.
So every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, Riggar arrived at the Center for Dialysis Care in Shaker Heights by 4:45 a.m. He spent the next four hours hooked up to a dialysis machine to filter his blood.
Afterward, he went without fail straight to his job as general sales manager at Adventure Chrysler Jeep Dodge Ram in Willoughby, where he worked 60-plus hours a week.
Dr. David Goldfarb, surgical director of the renal transplantation program at the Cleveland Clinic, was impressed. During their appointments, Riggar struck him as a ''go-getter'' with a good attitude — attributes that tend to contribute to a faster recovery after surgery.
''I've never seen a more dedicated person than Roy in terms of his employment,'' Goldfarb said. ''Dialysis wipes you out. Most people are extremely fatigued.''
In the spring, a reporter from the Record Publishing chain of weekly newspapers requested an interview with Riggar after hearing about his ordeal.
At first, Riggar resisted. A private man, he'd told only his boss and closest friends about his medical problems.
But his wife and two adult daughters urged him to share his story in hopes of finding a donor.
''That's far-fetched,'' he said, but agreed to talk anyway.
Call to service
Around that same time, Lynn Donnan sat in a weekly service at Hudson Community Chapel. She listened as the pastor encouraged members of the congregation to use their God-given gifts.
Touched by the message, the 46-year-old Hudson woman struggled to figure out her gift. Then a thought crossed her mind: ''I have my health.''
The wife and mother of three daughters had signed up 13 years ago to become a bone marrow donor but had never been called.
She remembered her days at her former job at the Cleveland Clinic, where she ran the heart-lung machine during heart and lung transplant surgery. She had seen the devastation on patients' faces when potential organ donations didn't work out at the last minute.
Please, she prayed, let an opportunity come along to help someone.
A short time later, she found her answer.
While catching up on reading several back issues of the Hudson Hub-Times newspaper, Donnan was drawn to a picture of the Riggars and their small black poodle, Rex. As she read the accompanying article about Riggar's quest for a new kidney, she discovered he shared her blood type — one of several key criteria to be a donor.
She knew she'd be a match.
Donnan showed the article to her husband, Craig, and their three daughters, Kirsten, 19; Megan, 16; and Payton, 13. She asked what they thought about her getting tested as a possible donor.
''Well, if you don't match, could I match?'' Kirsten asked.
Those words were all the encouragement she needed.
After preliminary blood tests in May, Donnan was told she appeared to be a good candidate. She then underwent two days of more comprehensive tests in July and spoke with a bioethics doctor at the Cleveland Clinic, who determined her intentions were purely altruistic.
Throughout the process, Donnan never had second thoughts. Her conviction was confirmed when she saw a wedding notice for one of Riggar's daughters and discovered he attended the same large, nondenominational church as her family.
''It was meant to be,'' she said.
Help from a 'friend'
For months, Riggar knew nothing about Donnan's intentions.
He was driving to work after dialysis treatment one morning in mid-September when Kathy Reilley, a case manager and registered nurse from his insurance company, Medical Mutual of Ohio, called.
''Congratulations!'' she said.
''For what?'' he asked.
''You're getting a kidney!''
''You've got to be mistaken,'' he replied.
''A friend's giving you a kidney,'' she insisted. ''Lynn.''
Riggar knew it had to be a misunderstanding. He didn't have a friend named Lynn.
But when he called his transplant coordinator at the Cleveland Clinic, he found out an unidentified donor — a woman named Lynn — had indeed come forward to give him a kidney.
He couldn't understand why a person he didn't know would show so much kindness.
His family kept asking him: Who is she?
''I can't imagine,'' he replied.
As plans moved forward for the surgery, he didn't learn anything more about his donor. To Riggar, the woman offering him a kidney was simply known as ''My Angel Lynn.''
A few times a year, the Cleveland Clinic gets calls from people who offer to be tested as potential donors for patients they don't know after hearing about their struggles, said Audrey Caplin, a registered nurse and the hospital's living kidney donor coordinator.
The recipient's insurance covers all the medical testing, the surgery, hospitalization and follow-up care related to the kidney donation for donors. Potential donors go through extensive testing and an education process before signing their consent to go forward.
In those cases, the donor is typically kept confidential, Caplin said. If both want, the donor and recipient can meet, but only after the transplant.
On the morning of the surgery in October, Riggar and Donnan were taken to separate operating rooms, where one transplant team removed her left kidney while another team prepared him for the donation and then placed the kidney.
Both procedures went without complications.
''The kidney worked immediately,'' said Goldfarb, Riggar's transplant surgeon.
As he awoke, Riggar thought of the angel he still hadn't met.
''How's Lynn doing?'' he asked.
Donnan stayed in the hospital for two days, and Riggar went home two days later.
Other than avoiding ibuprofen and similar medications, Donnan hasn't had to make any changes to her life because of her missing kidney.
When they talked after the operation, the Cleveland Clinic's living kidney donor coordinator asked Donnan whether she would do it all over again.
''Sure,'' Donnan answered without hesitation. ''No doubt.''
''She's a great person who did a great thing,'' Caplin said. ''She gave the ultimate gift — a gift of herself, a kidney. It was extraordinary. It's always extraordinary, but this was a gift she gave without obligation. She's an exceptional individual.
''She's an angel.''
Saying thanks
Donnan followed Riggar's recovery through a blog set up by his family.
About a month after the surgery, the two finally met at a lunch arranged by the Cleveland Clinic.
Riggar struggled to find the right words. What do you say to someone who has given such a precious gift without any expectations?
And so he simply said, ''Thank you.''
Looking back, Donnan said the experience has been good for her, too.
''It's changed what I do and made me realize more about my purpose in life,'' she said. ''It's made my faith stronger.''
Forever joined by Donnan's generosity, the two families plan to get together for dinner to celebrate the holidays.
And next year, Riggar will have a new holiday to celebrate: his second ''birthday'' on Oct. 27, the anniversary of the day he got a kidney from his angel, Lynn.
''Life is good,'' he said.
Cheryl Powell can be reached at 330-996-3902 or chpowell@thebeaconjournal.com.
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