-Behind Every On The Dial Story Right Now Is a Man Fighting for More Tomorrows-
Since it’s birth, I have believed that the greatest responsibility we have at On The Dial is to tell the stories of the people who make radio matter. We celebrate the promotions, mourn the personalities we lose, question the decisions that hurt this business, recognize the people quietly doing extraordinary work and remind an industry going through tremendous change that there are still thousands of passionate human beings behind those call letters. Every day, I sit down and try to give you those stories with everything I have. But there is another story unfolding behind the scenes at On The Dial that I have not talked about nearly as much as I probably should. Today, as President and Publisher, I am putting my own name in the headline because I am fighting for my life, and I need this incredible radio community to help me find a kidney.
My name is Steven Mills.
This is my story.
And more importantly, this is my ask.
This Fight Started Thirteen Years Ago
In 2013, my life changed with two words nobody ever wants to hear.
Hodgkin’s lymphoma.
Suddenly, the things that had seemed so important the day before became very small.
Cancer has a way of rearranging your priorities without asking permission.
The journey that followed was long.
Treatments.
Doctors.
Hospitals.
Tests.
Good days.
Terrible days.
Hope.
Fear.
And eventually, a bone marrow transplant.
That transplant became an important part of saving my life, but none of us could have known just how significant it would become again many years later.
I fought.
My family fought alongside me.
I prayed.
People prayed for me.
And finally, after years of battling the disease, I completely beat Hodgkin’s lymphoma in 2019.
I thought perhaps I had finally reached the other side.
Then life came knocking again.
Cancer Came Back With a Different Name
In 2020, I was diagnosed with colon cancer.
I had already fought one cancer.
Now I had another.
There are moments in life when you wonder how many times one person is supposed to get back up.
Then you discover the answer.
One more time.
So I did.
The cancer was removed and treated in 2021.
Once again, I survived.
Hodgkin’s lymphoma hadn’t taken me.
Colon cancer hadn’t taken me.
I believed there had to be a reason I was still standing.
But the treatments and medical battles had taken an enormous toll on my body.
And in 2023, another doctor gave me another diagnosis that changed everything.
My Kidneys Had Failed
Total renal failure.
After everything else, my kidneys were no longer capable of doing the job necessary to sustain my body without treatment.
Today, I need a kidney transplant.
And normally, that sentence would be complicated enough.
In my case, however, there is another enormous obstacle.
The very bone marrow transplant that played such an important role in helping me survive cancer has made the search for a compatible kidney extraordinarily difficult.
This Is Not an Ordinary Kidney Search
A bone marrow transplant affects the blood and immune system in ways that can complicate transplant matching. In my particular situation, my transplant history has created a difficult compatibility picture involving Human Leukocyte Antigens, commonly called HLA.
These markers play a critical role when transplant specialists evaluate compatibility and the risk that a recipient’s immune system could reject a donated organ.
My situation is unusual.
The simplest way I can explain it is this:
The cancer battle changed the rules of the kidney battle.
The bone marrow transplant that helped give me more years of life has now become part of what makes finding the right kidney so difficult.
And there is another challenge.
Black Americans face well-documented disparities in kidney disease, transplantation and access to living donors. When my individual immune and transplant complications are added to that reality, the search becomes even more difficult.
But difficult and impossible are two completely different words.
I am still searching.
I am still praying.
I am still believing.
And I am still asking.
Somewhere There Is One
That’s what I keep coming back to.
One.
Millions of people may see this story.
Thousands may share it.
Hundreds may consider being tested.
But ultimately, I am searching for one compatible person.
One person willing to begin the process.
One person whose medical testing ultimately says yes.
One person I may not know.
One person who may not know me.
One person who could be sitting in a radio studio somewhere reading this between songs.
One engineer.
One salesperson.
One programmer.
One listener.
One friend of a friend.
One person who sees this because somebody cared enough to hit SHARE.
I don’t know where that person is.
That’s why I need you.
Will You See If You Could Be My Match
I am asking you to consider taking the first step.
You are not committing to donate simply by asking questions or beginning the screening process. The transplant professionals determine whether donation is medically appropriate and safe.
If you are interested in learning whether you could potentially be a living kidney donor for me, please visit:
HCA Midwest Health Living Donor Program
When identifying the intended recipient, you will need:
Steven Mills
Date of Birth 12/23/1977
That’s the first step.
Let the medical professionals determine the rest.
Maybe you’ll discover you aren’t compatible.
That’s okay.
Maybe circumstances mean donation isn’t possible.
That’s okay too.
But maybe someone reading this will fill out that information and eventually receive news that changes two lives forever.
Maybe you’re the one.
If You Cannot Give a Kidney Give Me Your Reach
This is equally important.
I don’t expect thousands of people to volunteer for surgery.
But I am asking thousands of people to share my story.
This is where my radio family can do something extraordinary.
Radio understands reach.
We understand what happens when one voice is amplified.
It’s literally what we’ve spent more than a century doing.
So amplify mine.
Share this editorial on your station’s Facebook page.
Send it to your morning show.
Send it to your coworkers.
Put it in the company Slack.
Send it to another programmer.
Share it with your listeners.
Send it to somebody at another radio company.
Share it with your church.
Your family.
Your friends.
Your alumni group.
Your neighborhood.
Your social following.
Your audience.
Don’t worry about whether you’re my match. Help me find the person who is.
Because that person may be only one share away from seeing this.
Then Josh Liljenquist Saw Me
There are moments in this journey that have reminded me just how extraordinary people can be.
Josh Liljenquist became one of those people.
Josh helped take my story beyond the circle I could reach myself.
He helped people see me.
Not simply a diagnosis.
Not another social media post.
Not another GoFundMe.
A person.
A husband.
A father.
A pastor.
A broadcaster.
A man trying desperately to remain here with the people he loves.
Josh used his reach to widen the search, and people responded.
Others have stepped forward too.
Ben Steine. Dylan Kitley. James Cowan Jr.
People have prayed.
People have shared.
People have sent messages.
People who have never met me have told other people they have never met about a man who needs a kidney.
Think about the humanity in that.
Strangers helping strangers find other strangers because somewhere in that enormous chain of people could be the one.
That’s love out loud.
There Is Also a Financial Reality Behind This Fight
Serious illness doesn’t stop sending bills because you’re busy trying to survive.
There are medical expenses.
Treatment costs.
Travel.
Medications.
Daily expenses.
And countless financial pressures that accompany a prolonged medical fight.
A GoFundMe has been established to help me through this journey:
Help Pastor Steven Fight for His Life
If you are able to contribute, I am profoundly grateful.
If you cannot contribute, please don’t feel like you cannot help.
Share it.
A $5 donation matters.
A prayer matters.
A message matters.
But sharing the donor information could put this story in front of the person who ultimately saves my life.
And there is no price anyone can place on that.
Meanwhile On The Dial Keeps Going
This may surprise some people.
Through all of this, I continue working.
I still wake up wanting to know what happened in radio.
I still want to know who got promoted.
Who changed formats.
Who got hired.
Who got fired.
Who deserves recognition.
Which company made a brilliant move.
Which company made a decision that makes the rest of us stare at the screen and ask what on Earth they were thinking.
I still love this ridiculous, wonderful, frustrating, beautiful business.
And some days, working on On The Dial gives me somewhere else to put my mind.
For a little while, I’m not the patient.
I’m the publisher.
I’m not thinking about kidneys.
I’m thinking about radio.
I’m not thinking about another medical appointment.
I’m writing about somebody who finally got the job they’ve spent twenty years earning.
There is healing in purpose too.
You may see another fifteen stories posted and assume everything behind the scenes is normal.
Sometimes it isn’t.
Sometimes I’m exhausted.
Sometimes I’m afraid.
Sometimes I finish dealing with something medical and open the computer because there’s another story that needs to be written.
And somehow, we keep going.
Because I Am Not Finished
There is so much more I want to see.
I want to watch my family grow.
I want more birthdays.
More Christmas mornings.
More ordinary evenings when absolutely nothing important happens.
Those may be the moments I value most now.
I want to keep serving.
I want to keep writing.
I want to keep helping people.
I want to see what radio becomes.
I want to celebrate more people who finally get their shot.
I want to write about more legendary broadcasters retiring after fifty years instead of dying before we gave them their flowers.
I want to watch another generation discover why sitting behind a microphone can still be magical.
I want another year of On The Dial.
Then another.
Then another.
I want tomorrow.
And the day after that.
I want more life.
This Is My Ask to the Broadcasting Industry
Radio family, I need you.
Not as readers today.
Not as competitors.
Not as programmers, personalities, consultants, executives, engineers or salespeople.
As human beings.
Help me cast the biggest net we possibly can.
I have spent my career believing in the extraordinary power of communication.
Now I need that power personally.
Take my story somewhere I cannot take it.
Put it in front of someone I will never meet otherwise.
Make the circle wider.
Make the signal stronger.
If one radio station can reach hundreds of thousands of people, imagine what happens if hundreds of radio people decide that for one day we’re going to use our collective reach to help find one kidney for one person.
That’s the kind of power this industry still has.
Do You See Me
Those words have become deeply personal.
Do you see me?
I don’t mean Steven Mills, President and Publisher of On The Dial.
I mean the person behind that title.
The man who has spent thirteen years getting knocked down medically and getting back up.
Cancer.
Bone marrow transplant.
Cancer again.
Renal failure.
And now this search.
I am still here.
There were days when that wasn’t guaranteed.
So I don’t take today lightly.
I believe God has carried me through places I could never have crossed by myself.
I believe He placed people along this road for reasons I may never completely understand.
And I believe faith isn’t an excuse to stop moving.
Faith sometimes means trusting God while filling out another form.
Making another call.
Asking another person.
Sharing another post.
Knocking on another door.
Faith takes steps too.
This editorial is one of mine.
From My Heart Thank You
To everyone who has prayed for me, thank you.
To everyone who has donated, thank you.
To everyone who has shared my story, thank you.
To everyone who has privately checked on me, thank you.
To the broadcasters who have taken a moment away from their own lives to help mine, thank you.
To Josh Liljenquist, Ben Steine, Dylan Kitley and James Cowan Jr., thank you for helping make the circle bigger.
And to the person somewhere out there who may eventually become my donor:
I don’t know your name yet.
I don’t know where you live.
I don’t know how this story reaches you.
Maybe today is the first time you’ve ever heard of me.
But I am looking for you.
My family is praying for you.
And there are now people all over the country trying to help me find you.
I believe you’re out there.
One Voice One Industry One Search One Life
For more than a century, radio has demonstrated what can happen when one voice is placed behind a microphone and carried farther than nature ever intended it to travel.
Today, I’m asking you to help carry mine.
Beyond Kansas.
Beyond my friends.
Beyond On The Dial.
Beyond the people who already know my story.
Carry it until it reaches the one.
My name is Steven Mills.
I survived Hodgkin’s lymphoma.
I survived a bone marrow transplant.
I survived colon cancer.
Today, I am living with renal failure.
And I need a kidney.
If you think you may be able to help, please begin here:
See If You Could Be a Living Kidney Donor for Steven Mills
Recipient Steven Mills — Date of Birth 12/23/1977
If you would like to support the financial side of this fight:
And if neither is possible, there is still something extraordinarily important you can do.
SHARE THIS.
Share it until somebody shares it with somebody who shares it with the person I’ve spent all this time searching for.
An On The Dial Personal Note
On The Dial has always been about people. Behind every call sign is a person. Behind every microphone is a person. Behind every promotion, layoff, format change, retirement and ratings number is a human story worth telling. Today, that story happens to be mine.
Tomorrow, I will return to telling yours.
But today, I’m asking this incredible broadcasting family to help make sure I have enough tomorrows to keep doing it.
Do you see me?
I hope you do.
Now please help the one person I need to see me too.
— Steven Mills
President and Publisher
On The Dial
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