We’re organizing this fundraiser from Miles City, Montana for our close friend Kelsey.

We have already turned to our community once. Through the love and generosity of our great town, Miles City, friends and neighbors came together in a local crowdfunding effort that helped pay for Kelsey’s in‑home dialysis machine and travel to Denver for critical testing. That support made it possible for her to do treatments at home instead of driving into town for every session, and it covered the costs of getting evaluated for transplant. It was a huge blessing—but the full cost of transplant surgery and recovery is far beyond what that first effort could cover.

Here’s who Kelsey and Leo are. (You’ll also find her full story in her own words attached.)

Kelsey works as a dispatcher for the Montana DNRC, coordinating wildfire response and helping keep crews and communities safe. Her husband Leo is a Navy veteran who has already begun the donor evaluation process and is considered a potential living kidney donor for her. Kelsey is the kind of person who quietly keeps others safe—working behind the scenes to make sure wildfire crews have what they need when everything is on the line.

Leo is a sailor turned husband, father, and caregiver who has already watched one family member suffer through renal failure and is determined not to let Kelsey walk that road alone if he can help it. Putting himself forward as a possible donor is just one more example of his willingness to serve.

They are proud, hardworking, patriotic people who have always shown up for others. Now they need their community—and anyone moved by their story—to show up for them.

They don’t need to start from scratch finding a donor—but they do need help breaking through a major financial wall so Kelsey can finally move toward the transplant she urgently needs.

In early 2024, Kelsey watched her mom go on dialysis and slowly deteriorate, eventually losing her to renal failure in May 2025. Not long after, Kelsey herself was life‑flighted to Billings, Montana with fluid in her lungs, dangerously high blood pressure, and kidneys that were failing. She was drowning from the inside and had to start emergency dialysis.

Since then, her life has revolved around dialysis machines, surgeries, sleepless nights, and constant pain. She moved from in‑clinic hemodialysis to peritoneal dialysis at home, which helped her avoid driving into town but came with alarms, equipment trouble, and nonstop stress. Despite all of this, she has kept working and caring for her family as best she can.

Leo has already stepped up and gone through testing as a potential donor. At this stage, doctors consider him a match, but there is still a chance that his kidney could be rejected. We are hopeful and praying he will be approved and that the transplant will succeed, but we also know that further medical decisions may be needed as her team works to find the best donor option for Kelsey.

Kelsey did everything right. She pursued transplant evaluation, met with specialists, endured extensive testing, and was finally approved by the transplant board at a major center in Colorado.

Not long after that approval, their world collapsed: Kelsey’s insurance dropped that hospital as a preferred transplant center. Overnight, her path to surgery disappeared. She was told she would have to start over somewhere else, with new referrals, new paperwork, and new delays—while still fighting the daily realities of kidney failure.

Between the loss of expected coverage, the cost of ongoing care, travel, and time off work for both Kelsey and Leo, they simply cannot make this happen alone.

Your support will help:

1. Cover the cost of Kelsey’s transplant surgery and related care as her doctors identify the safest donor option.
2. Pay for travel, lodging, and medical expenses that insurance refuses to cover.
3. Give Kelsey and Leo breathing room during evaluation and recovery so they can focus on healing, not just on surviving financially.

Every dollar moves them closer to a surgery that could give Kelsey her life back and let the sacrifice of a living donor—whether Leo or another match—actually reach the operating room. If you can’t give, sharing this campaign is just as powerful.

If you want to truly understand what she and her family have gone through, please take a moment to read Kelsey’s full letter.

Thank you for reading, sharing, praying, and giving. You are helping turn a blocked path into a lifeline for Kelsey and her family. Below is Kelsey's story in her own words.

I would have to say my initial stint with Dialysis occurred in February 2024, after my mom had heart surgery. She was never able to fully recover. She slowly started to deteriorate in front of our eyes. Hemodialysis changed our lives drastically. She died May 6, 2025, from Renal Failure. On January 12, 2026, I was life-flighted to Billings, MT due to my kidney numbers being extremely low. I went in due to fighting a cold for over a month, but the night before I thought I was having a heart attack. I could feel my heart beating through my chest. I couldn’t catch my breath. Little to my knowledge, my lungs were filled with fluid and I was essentially drowning. My blood pressure the next day was 212/170. Once life-flighted I was put on a temporary catheter through my jugular vein and was doing dialysis everyday. About 7 days later, the jugular vein catheter was removed and the one in my chest was installed. I then attended hemodialysis three days a week every morning at 645 with 10 other patients. In the small clinic I attended, I was fortunate to get a chair. When my mom was first trying to get a chair at the same clinic, she mentioned that people don’t just quit or get better to get out of the chairs, they die. I guess I was fortunate. I was able to graduate to Peritoneal Dialysis (PD). My first ever surgery was the tube installation in my belly. 2-week recovery and then finally training for PD, in April I was no longer within the Dialysis Center, and I was able to give my chair to someone else. It felt profound to not have to give my chair up due to my death. Trying to figure out PD alarms, not having the right equipment, running out of medication. Some many sleepless nights. So much pain from pulling fluid or the anxiety of doing something wrong weighed on not only my shoulders, but my husband’s. He has truly been my rock since my mother’s diagnosis. He has been stuck by my side through sickness and in health. He kept his word and he shows up every day. He has even gotten himself tested to give me his spare. I have been trying to be diligent. For transplant I was initially referred to Advent in Colorado, but it was not a Blue Distinction Center. Meaning my insurance would not cover it. Not to mention, you must have 2 different insurances for dialysis and transplant. So, I had to apply for Medicare at 38. It took 5 months for that alone. Plus, now I am fighting whether my birth date is entered correctly in the system. Since Advent was not approved, I was re-referred to UC Health Colorado. My initial appointment was on May 5, 2026. I had 17 vials of blood taken, an echocardiogram, and 5 different appointments with everyone involved in the transplant process. Upon leaving I had to be referred for a pap smear and urodynamics. I completed both of those appointments in Early June. On June 23^rd I got the call from my Nurse Coordinator that the board approved me and they were transferring my case to my Financial Coordinator to complete insurance and any other financial information. Less than 4 hours later I was informed that BCBS dropped UC Health as a Blue Distinction Center and that I was no longer approved to get a Kidney there. I would have to start the whole process over. It was such a whirlwind. I was at such a high, that I hit rock bottom fast. All motivation, all happiness was robbed. Because it’s not only the loss of the Kidney that could be in reach. It’s sleepless nights. It’s the itchy skin from phosphorous. It’s the high blood pressure that can’t get under control. Sometimes it’s the low blood pressure, where you are going to pass out. It’s no salt. Watch your water intake. I miss chugging water. I miss watching sunsets, because I am so tired, I just want to get hooked up and try to sleep. It’s the fact I watched my mom suffer a little more than a year ago and now my kids are watching me. It’s a pretty scary thought they I don’t think I came to terms with until writing this. I may look good on the outside. But mentally I am drained. Drained from the disease, drained from the rug being pulled, drained financially. Just Drained