In July 2024, my dad found out he had AML cancer and needed a bone marrow transplant to survive. He had a 50% chance of making it through chemo to the transplant. When he did, we celebrated

knowing it was only the beginning.

In January 2025, his bone marrow transplant was scheduled, and I, his only daughter, was set to be his donor. I flew home from New York City to be with him and my mom and donate my stem cells. I put my year-old business on hold to come back to Wisconsin, planning to stay for a few days but ending up there for six full weeks.

Four days after the transplant, my dad was moved to the ICU with kidney failure. My mom caught pneumonia at the same time, which meant I was the only one who could be with him. He had no immune system yet, so I stayed by his side for twelve hours a day, eleven days in a row- praying, advocating, and doing everything I could to keep him comfortable even while he was unconscious.

After eleven long days, he was moved back to his transplant floor. He couldn’t walk and spent the next four months in the hospital fighting to recover.

When his immune system finally started to rebuild, he began to understand what had happened. He couldn’t walk, and that it would be a long road ahead. He was released to a rehab facility that promised daily physical therapy but only gave him thirty minutes a day. His health quickly declined again. I flew home immediately, and we worked with his doctors to have him transferred back to the hospital. They discovered infections and conditions caused by neglect in that facility.

After treatment, my dad was sent to another rehab center in Kenosha that was in terrible condition. The furniture was stained, there was no shower in his room, and the entire place smelled of urine. It’s heartbreaking that this is one of the only facilities available to people on insurance and Medicaid.

Within 24 hours, my mom and I converted our family room into a hospital room and made our home wheelchair accessible. We brought him home in July, exactly six months after he entered the hospital. My mom became his full-time caregiver, doing everything she can to keep him alive and comfortable despite her own health struggles.

A month later, he was readmitted to the hospital with severe gut complications. After weeks of tests, doctors discovered a rare virus that could have killed him instantly. But again, he survived.

Now, just two weeks after coming home, my dad is back in the ICU. He woke up one Saturday barely conscious, whispering that something was wrong and that he was afraid. This happened the same weekend our friends made a sign that said “I ❤️ Mitch” and held it up at a Brewers game for the world to see. I flew home from New York within twelve hours to be with my family. The doctors have found the likely cause and are working around the clock to treat it.

We don’t know what the outcome will be, but God has kept him alive through three near-death experiences and I believe there’s a reason for that.

My faith in God’s process has been rock solid through it all. But my parents are struggling. They’re watching their savings drain from medical transport, home care, and constant hospital visits. They’ve helped me build my business and keep it alive, and now I want to help them breathe again and to lift the weight for even a moment so my mom can rest and focus on caring for him.

If you’re able to give, share, or simply keep us in your prayers, it means the world.

Thank you for helping us fight for Mitch. ❤️