Living with kidney disease

Chronic kidney disease hijacked Darren Patillo's life.

It saps his energy and keeps him tethered to a dialysis machine when he'd rather be traveling, or chasing his 3-year-old daughter up the stairs.

Kidney disease is sneaky quiet, without symptoms that scream for attention, without much public awareness. But it roars through the lives of the people whose kidneys it destroys.

Patillo is only 40. A decade ago, he had no idea his kidneys were being damaged by high blood pressure.

He's a guy who loves talking to people, enjoys good food and wasn't too keen on exercise or watching his weight.

Patillo's plan for himself when he was studying English at Kansas University, was to be a fiction writer. He met a young woman from the town of Snohomish, moved here with her in 1997, and married her in 2000.

He worked for United Way, did marketing at Microsoft, then ran a bistro in Fremont for a few years before becoming a real-estate agent.

The restaurant, Patillo's New York Bistro, "was probably the most fun I've ever had," he said when we talked a few days ago in his Snoqualmie Ridge home.

Patillo's kidneys started breaking down in 2001.

His father-in-law is a doctor, and on a visit to the family cabin near Leavenworth, he noticed Patillo was huffing and puffing too much and sent him to a kidney doc.

"I was diagnosed with end-stage renal failure," he said.

He went on dialysis. A machine cleaned his blood three times a week for five hours at a time, until a friend volunteered one of her kidneys.

Cynthia Tanis met Sara Patillo in Nigeria when they were teenagers. Tanis, a missionary kid, grew up there. Sara's father and the other doctors at his clinic in Snohomish rotated stints working in Africa.

In 2002, Tanis donated a kidney that gave Patillo two years of happiness and freedom before his body rejected it.

He says it was a gift beyond repayment.

Tanis said it just felt like the right thing to do. She researched it, lined up family members to take care of her two small children then made the offer.

After the surgery, members of the church both families attend brought food to her family.

"It takes a village to donate a kidney," she jokes.

Hearing about it takes me away from headlines about the behavior that sunk the economy, about people who thought torturing other people was OK. Goodness, caring and connection are part of being human, too.

Northwest Kidney Centers is highlighting Patillo's uplifting and cautionary story at its annual "Breakfast of Hope" Thursday (http://www.nwkidney.org/).

Kidney disease is far more common than most people realize and NKC has made education and prevention central goals.

One in seven Americans have the disease, but most don't realize it. Linda Sellers, public-relations manager for the centers says kidney disease is at epidemic levels, spurred by increases in its two main causes, hypertension and diabetes.

Education is critical because prevention (including a better diet and regular exercise) works.

African Americans like Patillo are four times more likely to be affected than the general population.

Patillo's father had kidney disease; his mother, brother and sister have high blood pressure.

Patillo is back on dialysis, but now he has a machine at home. He connects to it every other night while he sleeps.

He's always tired, though. A lot of people on dialysis fall into depression he said, but "I have a lot of good things in my life." His wife and his daughter top that list.

"It's a gift to be active and you start to realize that ten fold when you have a condition like this."

Patillo is hoping for another transplant. There are still things he wants to do, he told me, like travel, and learn to fly.

Despite the detours, he hasn't given up trying to steer his life along the path of his dreams.

Maybe his story will help other people avoid a potentially journey-ending hazard.

Jerry Large's column appears Monday and Thursday. Reach him at 206-464-3346 or jlarge@seattletimes.com.