Organ donations and transplants hit an all-time high in 2023, according to New Mexico Donor Services. Still, over 640 New Mexicans are sitting on a waitlist hoping to find a match before it鈥檚 too late. Donor Services, along with recipients and waitlisters themselves are undertaking efforts to get more New Mexicans with organ failure life-saving transplants.
Renee Roybal of San Ildefonso Pueblo made it off the transplant waiting list in 2002, when she received a new heart.

鈥淚 am thankful I got life to live on again,鈥 she said. 鈥淚 was able to see my daughters graduate from high school, I saw them marry, I saw the birth of each of my grandchildren.鈥
One in five people on the waitlist in New Mexico are Native American, according to , the state鈥檚 nonprofit donor procurement organization. The community is overrepresented due to high rates of chronic conditions that can cause organ failure. At the same time, they鈥檙e less likely to find a match because fewer Native Americans and people with the same genetic background are more likely to have compatible blood types and tissue markers.
Donor Services said that a common spiritual belief of keeping the body intact for burial is one reason more Native people don鈥檛 donate their organs. Just days after her operation, Roybal found herself in a system that wasn鈥檛 built to respond to her cultural needs.
鈥淢y husband approached me and said, 鈥榊ou know, the men from the pueblo want you to return your heart to the pueblo,鈥欌 she said. 鈥淚鈥檓 like, 鈥極h, well, I gave permission to pathology to take it.鈥 And he said, 鈥榃ell, we need to get it back.鈥欌
She said hospital administrators told her that wasn鈥檛 possible, so she enlisted the help of a friend enrolled in law school.
鈥淎nd I don鈥檛 know what he said but, the next day, pathology called me and they said, 鈥楳rs. Roybal, where do you want your heart sent?鈥欌 she told 九色网. 鈥淎nd I said, 鈥楾o the Governor鈥檚 Office at San Ildefonso Pueblo鈥 and I gave them the address. 鈥榃ill do. It鈥檚 done,鈥 [they said]. And that was it.鈥
Pueblo leaders buried her heart and, when she dies, she鈥檒l be buried along with it.
Since her transplant, Roybal has worked to increase donations among tribal communities through outreach and education. She said younger people are generally more receptive.
鈥淚n the pueblo, there鈥檚 a lot of change 鈥 phones, you know, and stuff,鈥 she said. 鈥淎nd to try to put it in balance with your Native traditions, your culture, that鈥檚 somewhat hard.鈥
She said, in some ways, organ donation is very much in line with Pueblo culture.
鈥淣atives are a giving people. Pueblos, they open up their homes for the Feast Days, they invite people to come and eat, come on in,鈥 she said. 鈥淚 think, following those same lines, that they should really think about giving the gift, you know, organ donation. And I try to tell them that. To look at it that way.鈥
Celina Espinoza is the external affairs and business development director at New Mexico Donor Services. She said her team is working to make the process more accessible.

鈥淪ome tribes have ceremony that needs to be performed around death, and we鈥檙e able to learn what that is and help make it happen,鈥 she said.
She said witnessing the impact of life-saving transplants can also help change people鈥檚 outlook.
鈥淲e have so many ambassadors that say, 鈥楤ecause I received, I鈥檓 now able to teach my granddaughters how to dance, I鈥檓 able to teach the language to my grandson,鈥欌 she said. 鈥淎nd we see so much of our culture dwindling in New Mexico that I think there鈥檚 a lot more willingness to embrace this idea.鈥
Since 2020, the number of Native Americans in New Mexico who鈥檝e donated organs has doubled, according to the organization鈥檚 data. And last year, the state saw record donations and transplants more generally. Ninety-five people donated organs, leading to 241 transplants, up from about 160 in 2019.
Espinoza said the organization recognizes the decision is intensely personal and never pushes donor registrations. She credited relationship building and educational outreach for the uptick.
鈥淲orking with the ER and ICU nurses to know what the donation process looks like, setting clear expectations for families of how donation works, but [also] just reemphasizing the legacy you leave behind as an organ donor,鈥 she said.
While speaking about record numbers, Espinoza was quick to note the organization sees each donor as an individual, not a number. They ask families to fill out cards with details and stories about their departed loved ones, who the organization calls 鈥渉eroes.鈥
鈥淭hat鈥檚 read before the transplant surgery happens so that the staff, the nurses, the doctors understand who that individual was as a human being and what gift they are giving,鈥 she said.
And yet, despite these increased donations, Donor Services says New Mexicans still wait an average of five years for a kidney 鈥 two years longer than the national average. For some, that鈥檚 too long. Every day across the U.S., 17 people die while waiting for an organ, . Epinoza advised those waiting to 鈥渂e the advocate on the side for finding a living donor,鈥 which she said was 鈥渢heir best way to be able to do something proactive.鈥
There may be no better example of making a lot of noise in search of a kidney donor than Albuquerque resident Scott Plunket, who had the Highland High School marching band play outside his house, yelling 鈥済ive Scott a kidney!鈥 A video of the performance is posted to his Youtube channel, , which stands for Scott Needs a Kidney.

He also has a logo, which features two figures lifting up a kidney bean, printed on hats and yard signs with QR codes that lead to . Plunket worked in film set decoration before kidney disease and dialysis made him too weak to continue.
鈥淕iven my background in film, and kind of being a goofball, I鈥檝e done everything from animated shorts where we tell kidney jokes,鈥 he said. 鈥淥ther friends have helped me film stuff down at an improv club where we sort of make this joke that, 鈥楩or this next game, all I need is a human kidney in good condition.鈥欌
In his front yard, large red letters staked into the ground spell out 鈥淚 need a kidney!鈥
Plunket is searching for a living donor through the , an option he didn鈥檛 know about at first.
鈥淯p until then, I was just kind of waiting around 鈥 it sounds terrible 鈥 but for someone to pass away and for me to be lucky enough to receive their kidney,鈥 he said.
He remains on the waitlist for a deceased donor, but said he would actually prefer a living one because those recipients live longer.
And his creative outreach has gotten some traction. In addition to eight friends, three neighbors he didn鈥檛 know have offered to help.
鈥淚 was really really close with this one neighbor. She had gone through all of the testing. She basically had one more hurdle to go and, sure enough, a CT scan came back that meant that she couldn鈥檛 donate,鈥 he said. 鈥淎nd she was so upset. She was like, 鈥業 never wanted to let you down.鈥 And I still haven鈥檛 met this person in-person.鈥
Two others are nearing the end of the process now.
鈥淪o, you know, fingers crossed one of them might work out,鈥 he said.
And if one does, or if he gets pulled off the waitlist, he鈥檒l join a community of organ recipients like Renee Roybal, who received the heart of an 11-year-old girl. She was told the transplant would afford her 1-5 more years of life but, 22 years later, she said her doctor calls her his 鈥済olden child.鈥
鈥淎nd I said no. I鈥檓 not the golden child. The golden child is the person who gave me this heart,鈥 she said. 鈥淎nd that鈥檚 what I believe. She is my golden child.鈥