Renck: Mark McIntosh needs a kidney, but his focus is on recruiting donors

Mark McIntosh is dying.

“And I have never felt more alive,” he says as we walk through his Denver-area home with jazz music humming in the background.

McIntosh, 65, needs a kidney transplant. Forever healthy and active, his life turned upside down in 2022. He lacked energy, wasn’t sleeping and lost weight. McIntosh visited the doctor and was diagnosed with amyloidosis, a rare disorder caused by an abnormality of plasma cells in the bone marrow.

Last April, McIntosh began dialysis and chemotherapy.

“I am in remission,” he says with a smile. “It has opened the door for a transplant.”

We know Mark well around these parts. He worked at CBS News Colorado from 1988 to 2006, entertaining and informing viewers as a top sportscaster and reporter. I first met Mark when covering the University of Colorado football team in college in 1990. His personality was infectious. His current basement showcases a life lived in snapshots and artwork from memorable sporting events.

“That is me on the sideline pointing to the Notre Dame players and the flag thrown for clipping on Rocket Ismail’s punt return for a touchdown,” says McIntosh of CU’s Orange Bowl win that led to a national championship. “I will never forget that.”

Thrust into this world of survival, McIntosh knows more about kidneys than he ever wanted to. The waiting juxtaposed by the sense of urgency can be agonizing. But McIntosh offers no glimpse of anguish. His perspective on his situation is shaped by faith and friendships.

“I have been going to Friday morning bible study for about 20 years. It’s a bunch of old jocks. We talk about sports and then ask for prayer. I was always praying my kidneys would wake up. Once they didn’t, I prayed for a new kidney,” recalls McIntosh, a married father of two. “My buddy then said, ‘McIntosh, given your communication skills and social media following, go find 5,000 kidneys.’^”

That is where the idea for Drive for Five was born, a quest to make a difference when it comes to live kidney donations. McIntosh is spreading the word in Denver, his hometown of Kansas City and St. Louis, where many of his college buddies reside, with designs on going nationwide.

His message is simple: “Why not share your spare?”

The goal is to get 5,000 45-to-60-year-olds to give back, while creating an additional 5,000-person pool of candidates who avoid kidney disease by adopting a healthier lifestyle. McIntosh is directing potential donors to the National Kidney Registry.

More than 101,000 people need a kidney with roughly 17,000 receiving one annually, according to the National Kidney Foundation.

“I didn’t realize how big our goal was when I started,” McIntosh admits. “What the heck. Go big or go home, right?”

Nothing seems to wear McIntosh out. He shows me his stomach scar from surgery, explains the mechanics of his home care, and shuffles from room to room without missing a syllable in our conversation. It is this energy that has helped him recruit volunteers to his cause. That includes Randy Weber, a former Olympic ski jumper, who is a double organ transplant recipient.

“When we met for coffee, it was like Mark and I were old friends. I think what he is doing is fantastic. After what I have been through (receiving a kidney and liver), I have a desire to give back,” Weber says. “I learned that if you are waiting on the list, you are probably going to die on the list. You have to recruit donors. We need more.”

McIntosh knows numbers from his days as an athlete. The kidney donation statistics are sobering. And the treatment is grueling as McIntosh experienced three days a week from 5 a.m. to 9 a.m. before transitioning to a home machine that filters out toxins for eight hours every night.

“I got to know the group there for dialysis. They were great. We would wait for them to throw open the doors and jokingly say, the ‘Vampires are ready.’ They would suck the blood out of our bodies, purify it and put it back in. A lot of people there couldn’t drive and are dependent on public resources,” McIntosh said. “It’s tough. And it’s really affecting people of color. We have to do more to help.”

McIntosh, a motivational speaker and journalism professor at Metro State, aims to improve the odds of donation. As we talk, I ask McIntosh gently what it’s like to wait for a phone call that might never come. He falls back onto his career in sports journalism.

“This is my assignment. My new story to tell,” McIntosh says. “And I lean on my faith, Galatians 6:9. ‘Let us not lose heart in doing good, for in due time we will reap if we do not grow weary.’ We can never grow tired of raising awareness.”

McIntosh recently spoke at the state capitol in support of the CARE Act that would remove financial barriers to living organ donation. He hopes it eventually passes as greater understanding is gained about the crisis. As he talks, he hands me a worksheet with pertinent facts, never pausing, never allowing anything to take away his voice or breath.

“The way he has taken an internal struggle and channeled it externally into something so positive is remarkable,” Weber explains.

McIntosh has heard from five potential donors, who are going through testing to see if they are a match. He is grateful.

“But, I don’t want to know until we are being wheeled into the operating room,” McIntosh says. “Then I will probably look over and say, ‘Oh my God it’s your kidney? I don’t know if I want yours.’^”

McIntosh laughs. He is fighting for his life. And for so many others. Dying can wait.

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