I’ve been fighting My Demons, Now I’m Fighting to Stay Alive for My Kids

My name is Bryan. Three years ago, a doctor told me I had six months to live. I almost accepted that as my fate, but I’m still here. I’m still fighting.

My journey hasn't been easy. In my 20s, I lost my way to addiction. I walked away from drugs years ago, but alcohol was a harder battle. It took three rehabs and two sober homes to finally stop at age 35. I’ve spent the last seven years in recovery; there were a couple of stumbles, but I always got back up, dusted myself off, and kept moving forward. I worked for 13 years to get my license back and finally reached a healthy 195 lbs. I was finally becoming the man I was meant to be.

Then, liver failure threatened to take it all away.

For three years, the disease has stripped my strength and left me in constant pain. I’ve had surgeries to "buy time," but I need a transplant to survive. Last year, I was removed from the transplant list because I couldn't afford the constant five-hour round trips to my specialists.

My old truck is putting in the work for me, but she’s tired. She needs a new clutch and repairs to keep making these long hauls. Without a reliable way to get to my appointments, I’m stuck.

I’ve always been the guy who tries to do everything on his own. I never wanted to be a burden. But I can’t win this one by myself. I’m asking for help to get back on the transplant list, fix my truck, and get back in town where my children live. I need to secure the stability to survive the surgery and the long recovery ahead.

I promised Maddox (17), Lilly (14), and Meadow (8) that I would never walk out of their lives again. I’ve already beaten the "six-month" clock once; now I just need the help to finish the fight.

Your support doesn’t just fix a truck; it gives a father the chance to heal and keep a promise to his children.