I woke up in my hospital bed, picked up my cell phone and noticed a missed call from my wife, Alexis.

I called back immediately. I heard a sniffle, and, in the nanosecond before she could speak, a million thoughts raced through my mind. All of them were bad.

Had the kidney transplant failed to put our daughter's disorder into remission?

Did something go wrong during the operation?

"It's working," Alexis told me tearfully.

Our kidney transplant surgery on May 22 had gone well. My left kidney, which now belonged to my 8-year-old daughter, Charlie, was functioning normally before she left the operating table. It was the first time in at least four years she's had a healthy kidney.

As I lay in that bed at the University of Michigan Hospital while Charlie recovered nearby at C.S. Mott Children's Hospital in Ann Arbor, I was overcome with relief. The pain in my abdomen temporarily went away.

To me, the decision to donate a kidney to Charlie was no decision at all. As a father, my duty is to keep my children happy, healthy and safe and to prepare them for a big world.

Like most parents, I'd do anything for my kids. This was an opportunity to put that feeling into action.

What I didn't realize was how much my daughter's ongoing medical journey would strengthen our bond and help me to better understand the meaning of love, courage, empathy and hope.

How my relationship with my father shaped me into the dad I am today

Alexis and I essentially grew up together. We began dating in 2001 at the end of my sophomore year and her freshman year at St. Philip Catholic Central High School in Battle Creek.

That summer, my dad died in a drowning accident. He was intoxicated.

He undoubtedly loved me and my three sisters and, for a time, was a proud and doting dad to us.

But his personal struggles with substance abuse left him feeling dejected and defeated. He essentially gave up on being a father.

I hadn't spoken to my dad in more than five years at the time of his death. I was only 16, and, with feelings of anger and a sense of righteousness, I chose not to attend his funeral. My only regret is not being there for the rest of my family.

My dad's absence was wounding. It inspired me to never repeat his mistakes. Seeing his struggles with alcoholism informed my decision to become a teetotaler. From a young age, I was determined never to be the kind of father that my dad was to me.

I was fortunate to have many father figures to emulate, none more than my stepdad, Todd, the hardest worker I know. Numerous uncles and the dads of my childhood friends also served as examples of how to be a man.

She gave me unconditional love

When Charlie arrived in 2010, the first sight of her nearly knocked me off my feet. I had felt destined to be a father, but nothing could have prepared me for that wave of unconditional love.

That love would double in 2016 when my son Oliver was born. Charlie showed up at the hospital in the early hours that morning, beaming with joy as she greeted her baby brother. She smiled as she tickled his tiny feet.

I look back on those photos with mixed emotions, because Charlie didn't look like herself. Her adoring face was puffy and her eyebrows thick due to a steady dose of steroids. They were the first line of defense against a kidney disorder we had only just begun to understand.

She gave me courage

Just after her fifth birthday, Charlie woke up one morning with extremely swollen eyelids.

Alexis and I assumed it was an allergic reaction, and Charlie was already scheduled for her annual checkup that day. Thankfully, her pediatrician checked her urine.

Alexis called to tell me the news. The doctor said Charlie was "spilling a ridiculous amount of protein" in her urine. Trying to come up with an answer, I replied, "Well, she had some eggs this morning."

We laugh it off now as wishful thinking. But it also showed how naive I was.

Charlie's pediatrician referred us to C.S. Mott Children's Hospital, one of the top pediatric nephrology clinics in the United States.

Her initial biopsy offered an official diagnosis: Charlie has nephrotic syndrome and focal segmental glomerulosclerosis , often called F.S.G.S., a rare disease that attacks the kidney's filtering units, causing scarring which leads to permanent kidney damage.

There is no known cause or cure for nephrotic syndrome and F.S.G.S., which is diagnosed in an estimated 5,400 patients each year.

At our first clinic visit, a nurse laid out treatments used to put the disorder into remission. She explained how we would try steroids first, and, after that, other medications, treatments and clinical trials. If all else failed, the final option would be transplant.

Over the next three years, we would try everything.

She's wise beyond her years

Charlie has been poked for blood draws countless times. She once took as many as 14 pills daily. Some medications suppressed her immune system, leaving her unable to attend school and social functions.

Between illnesses and a handful of surgeries, she has spent quite a bit of time in the hospital, sometimes days at a time.

I've often had to pry Alexis away from her bedside, giving her occasional breaks from the uncomfortable hospital room couches as we juggled the day-to-day responsibilities of life while also caring for our son.

Charlie took everything in stride.

She rarely bemoaned the unfairness of it all. She remained her sunny, upbeat self, always looking to entertain others. She's an aspiring singer, though I believe her best future is in comedy.

She shows a wisdom beyond her years, understanding that things can always be worse and confident that whatever hardship she is going through is only temporary.

Charlie reached end-stage kidney failure in 2018. We began making the nearly 80-mile trip to C.S. Mott three days a week for pediatric dialysis treatments.

For nine months, Charlie barreled through the doors of the pediatric dialysis unit like she was on a mission to brighten the day of the entire staff. She developed nicknames for everyone on the unit, and eagerly shared with them any story that would embarrass me (something I've dubbed "story time with Charlie").

Charlie's best days at dialysis were when her brother came to visit. During a particularly hard day when she wasn't feeling well, he launched some Play-Doh straight at my mom, and I don't think I ever heard Charlie laugh so hard.

Oliver is too young to understand what is happening, but he constantly asks Charlie and I if we feel better. And, despite being bounced around between grandparents, aunts and uncles, he remains a stable force in our household, bringing a sense of normalcy by being his silly toddler self.

During dialysis, Charlie did schoolwork with a tutor and had welcome visits from the music and art therapy professionals with the C.S. Mott Child Life program.

As we neared a transplant date, she began to spend more time with medical professionals than with other kids. The entire staff became like a second family to us.

Those long car rides and three-hour treatments gave Charlie and I hang time. I'm her dad first, but she is genuinely a friend. We share a sense of humor. She has a natural curiosity, one many parents can recognize, that shows itself through her constant "car questions." She particularly loves learning about my own childhood in the 1980s and '90s, the frontier days before YouTube Kids existed.

She inspired me to run every day

Knowing transplant was a possibility and inspired by Charlie's fight, I began exercising in earnest in January of 2018, running at least one mile every day. I increased my mileage this year, ran a half-marathon on my own, improved my diet and lost 20 pounds. Most importantly, I kept my kidney well hydrated, drinking at least two liters of water a day.

Charlie had one kidney removed in February to limit the spilling of her protein ahead of transplant. Alexis and I were each tested as potential transplant donors later that month and were elated to learn we were each a match, though I had a closer blood type.

There is no person better equipped to take care of Charlie during recovery than Alexis, so we determined I would be the donor.

We understand how lucky we are that I was a match. According to the National Kidney Foundation, there are 123,000 Americans on the waiting list for a lifesaving organ transplant. More than 101,000 need a kidney, but only 17,000 receive one each year.

In the best shape of my adult life at 34-years-old, and never having a sip of alcohol, I felt confident I had taken good care of "Lefty," as we came to call the kidney.

I was even more comforted to learn that our kidney transplant would be a milestone - the 3,000th living donor transplant by Michigan Medicine.

The night before Charlie was admitted for transplant, we stayed at an Ann Arbor hotel to get in some swimming, an activity that Charlie loves and won't be able to do for a while. When we returned to our room, I asked Charlie, "What's it like to have a kidney removed?"

She cast a wry smile.

"If a little girl can do it, then a 34-year-old man can do it," she said.

She pushed me to show more empathy

My job as a journalist at the Battle Creek Enquirer allowed me to work remotely during dialysis days, and often the best place to set up my laptop was across the hall in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit waiting room, a place that is rarely empty.

There, I would see the familiar pangs of worry in the eyes of fellow parents. As hard as I tried to keep to myself and stay busy, I was exposed to a full spectrum of emotions. Not all of the parents would be lucky enough to take their child home.

Seeing those families gave me a profound perspective on how fortunate I am. Being a regular at the hospital also helped Charlie to understand that there were countless other "Little Victors" like her who deserved the same amount of love and care that she receives.

Above all else, we feel fortunate to be part of a loving extended family, a faith-based school system and a remarkable community that has been inspired by Charlie's battle, and has constantly reminded her that she's not fighting alone.

We have hope for a cure

Charlie is regaining her color.

Her appetite, once sapped by kidney failure, requiring a feeding tube, has shown itself in force.

While still restricted from physical activity and taking medications that suppress her immune system to help fight rejection, she is slowly returning to a more typical childhood and looking forward to trips to Lake Michigan and a role as a bridesmaid in an upcoming wedding.

We will have more hurdles ahead. A possibility of rejection still looms, and there is a chance Charlie's new kidney will continue to spill protein, something we'll continue to monitor. The best-case scenario for a living kidney donation is typically around 25 years, so "Lefty" eventually will have to be replaced.

But we have hope.

Hope that one day a cure will be found.

I am beyond proud to be the father of such a brave kidney warrior. And I hope one day she fully understands what an inspiration she is to me.

Nick Buckley is a reporter for the Battle Creek Enquirer, part of the USA Today Network. He can be reached at nbuckley@battlecreekenquirer.com or 269-966-0652. Follow him on Twitter:@NickJBuckley

BECOME A DONOR

• For more information on how to become a living organ donor, visit organdonor.gov.

• For more information on how to donate organs at the end of life, visit giftoflifemichigan.org.

2019 BATTLE CREEK NEPHCURE WALK

Now in its third year, the one-mile walk benefits NephCure Kidney International, with all proceeds going to the non-profit that is dedicated to identifying the cause, improving the treatment and finding a cure for Nephrotic Syndrome and F.S.G.S.

Our team for the walk is fittingly called "Charlie's Angels." And seeing the wave of people wearing Charlie's Angels T-shirts is enough to inspire hope in anyone.

• What: A one-mile walk and fundraiser benefiting NephCure Kidney International

• When: Sunday, Oct. 6; Registration at 11 a.m., walk at noon

• Where: Leila Arboretum, 928 West Michigan Avenue

• Info: Visit give.nephcure.org/BattleCreek