UAW Local 5960’s Ron Reid, right, donated a kidney to his longtime friend and former co-worker, Dionicio “Nicho” Villa. Photo: VINCE PISCOPO

In hindsight, it might have been better for UAW Local 5960’s Ron Reid to know the given name of his longtime friend and former co-worker, Dionicio “Nicho” Villa.

After all, when the nurse came in right before Reid was to donate one of his healthy kidneys to his ailing hunting buddy four years ago, she wanted to confirm who the organ was coming from and who it was going to.

The problem was Reid, who like Villa, had retired from General Motors’ Lake Orion (Mich.) Assembly Plant, never knew his friend’s given name.

“Oh, no! That ain’t happening,” he told the nurse when she tried to confirm that his kidney was going to someone named “Dionicio.”

After some very tense moments on a hospital gurney for Villa – and some double checking by the medical staff – it all got worked out. Reid learned his friend’s real first name; Villa learned what having a friend like Reid really means: life.

Both men can laugh about the little pre-surgical snafu now, but they’re dead serious about the value of signing an organ donation card.

Villa’s story begins as his kidney’s started to fail in the 1990s. A burly and active man, the metal finisher noticed he was becoming easily fatigued.

His failing kidneys soon needed dialysis. Villa opted for home dialysis, which meant four treatments a day through a stent in his peritoneal cavity. He retired in 2003, followed two years later by Reid, a repairman.

Reid recalled that as they got close to retirement, their friendship also grew. He saw his friend’s health – and quality of life – deteriorating. He and others were determined not to let Villa give up. They did their best to keep his health and spirits up by getting him up and moving, even if it was to just walk around and look at hunting equipment at the outdoors store.

“He did pretty well, to the best of his ability, did what he had to do to survive,” Reid said of his friend.

By 2001 doctors suggested he get on a donor list because he was getting worse. Villa admits he thought about dying while waiting for a donor. Always cold, always tired, he made his peace with his maker.

“A couple of times, while going to the mailbox, I passed out,” he said. “That’s where the mental part plays. You think, ‘is it worth doing all of this?’”

Not willing to see his friend’s health or spirits deteriorate any longer, Reid decided to act.

“Once he got on the list, I went and got tested, and lo and behold and surprise, surprise,” Reid said. “There’s no way I could go through the rest of my life thinking I could have helped.”

Villa initially was adamantly opposed to the idea, telling Reid to think of his children and his grandchildren. It was major surgery, with no guarantees it would work or that Reid would come through it without harm.

“My response to that is I don’t live in the ‘ifs,’ ‘ands’ or ‘buts;’ I live in the ‘now,’ Reid said. “He needs it now.”

Both men came through the surgery fine. Reid said it was a “little more major” than he had thought, but he learned how to use the push button on the pain medicine dispenser just fine. He sports a foot-long scar on the left side of his abdomen. His one kidney functions just as two would.

Villa now has three kidneys, with his donated kidney doing most of the work. He has to be careful about lifting anything. His hearing also improved, as did his focus. But the major difference was the feeling of warmth.

“It was like turning on a switch. I felt really good,” Villa said. “I was always cold.”

But on a recent cold January day, he left the union hall with his friend, wearing just a thin hunting jacket over his overalls.

The new kidney probably wasn’t the only reason for the warmth.

Vince Piscopo