Jeana Moore's Story

A nurse at Holy Family Hospital in Spokane was the first person to save Jada Bascom's life. She noticed a tiny red dot — petechiae, the pinpoint marks that appear when blood is not clotting the way it should — on the skin of a newborn only hours old. Most people would not have known what they were looking at. She did, and she acted. It was the first act in a long line of people who would save Jada's life.

The last of them lived 5,000 miles away, in a small village in southern Germany, and neither he nor Jada's family knew the other existed. Out of roughly 11 million people then registered as potential donors around the world, exactly one was a match. This is the story of that one match — and of the grandmother who could not simply say thank you, and instead walked across two continents so that other families would never have to search alone.

A Fight for Life at One Month Old

Jada was born April 16, 2007, at Holy Family Hospital in Spokane, Washington — a 6-pound, 7-ounce baby. Within hours of her birth she received her first blood transfusion. What began as a precursor condition became, by roughly one month of age, full Acute Myeloid Leukemia (AML). Doctors were blunt: her only real hope was a bone marrow transplant, and it needed to happen fast.

What followed was a battle waged on an infant's body. Over the course of her treatment Jada endured five rounds of chemotherapy and hundreds of blood transfusions, moving between Providence Sacred Heart in Spokane, Seattle Children's, and Fred Hutchinson Cancer Center. When one drug study sent her into liver failure and her organs began to shut down, an experimental medication called Defibrotide — sent free from a company in Italy on a compassionate-use waiver — pulled her back from the edge so she could survive long enough to reach a transplant at all.

Through the fevers and the counts and the isolation rooms, one search ran quietly in the background: the search for someone, somewhere, whose bone marrow could match Jada's.

What Is AML?

According to the American Cancer Society, acute myeloid leukemia is a fast-growing cancer of the blood and bone marrow — the soft tissue inside bones where blood cells are made. In AML, the marrow produces abnormal, immature cells called blasts that never mature or work properly, and they crowd out the healthy red cells, white cells, and platelets the body needs. That crowding is what causes the bruising and bleeding, the fatigue, and the vulnerability to infection.

Because it is "acute," AML progresses quickly and must be treated right away. The American Cancer Society notes that it is the most common acute leukemia in adults but is rare in infants — a disease most often associated with older patients. That is part of what made Jada's case so unusual. As the National Marrow Donor Program describes, treatment is typically chemotherapy, and for some patients a bone marrow or blood stem cell transplant from a matched donor.

The Search for a Match

No one in Jada's family was a match. There was no match anywhere in the United States. That was not a stroke of bad luck so much as a reflection of how the numbers work: the National Marrow Donor Program reports that roughly 70% of patients who need a transplant do not have a fully matched donor in their family and must rely on an unrelated volunteer. Jada, with no siblings, had almost no chance of a family match from the start.

So the search widened outward — first across the country, then across the ocean, into the roughly 11 million people then registered as potential donors worldwide. A patient's odds in that search depend almost entirely on the size and diversity of the registry: the more people who join, the more likely any one patient finds their match. For Jada, out of 11 million strangers, there was one.

A Stranger Named Torsten

In April 2006 — more than a year before Jada was even born — a young man named Torsten Huber and his girlfriend, Michaela, walked into a donor drive in a small town in southern Germany. The drive had been organized for a local woman with leukemia, after a news story about her case moved people in the community to help. No match was found for that woman, but everyone who swabbed their cheek that day joined the donor registry. Torsten's registration went into a database and, like the vast majority of registrations, sat there quietly. For most donors, the call never comes.

In October 2007, the call came. Testing confirmed what the registry had flagged: Torsten was Jada's match — a "perfect 10-point match," in the language of the coverage. A few weeks later he donated, and his cells were flown across the Atlantic to Seattle, where, as he later put it, "a little girl was waiting." He was not told her name. Months would pass before he learned that his "genetic twin," as he came to call her, was alive.

Torsten was later described in news coverage as a social worker and musician in his mid-thirties. His registry was DKMS, the German bone marrow donor organization. Years afterward, he was asked why he had done it. His answer never wavered: "Of course I registered to help somebody. I'm really glad that I could help Jada. It is a pleasure for me to get to know the whole family and to stay in touch."

A Family Meets Its Miracle

At about seven months old, on November 27, 2007, Jada received Torsten's cells. During the transplant, her grandmother Jeana held her while the family sang what they called their "transplant songs." Every November 27 since, the family has marked the day as Jada's "rebirth."

Two years later, Torsten went looking for the recipient family. He found the Jada Bascom Foundation online and emailed Jada's mother, Issa. By then Jeana was in the middle of walking across the United States, and she invited the man who had saved her granddaughter to help her finish.

On January 27, 2011, in New York City, the family met Torsten in person for the first time. He and his wife had flown from Germany. The last miles of Jeana's walk ran along Central Park to the Park Central Hotel, where Torsten finally met Kyle, Jada's father — and then Jada and Issa. His own account captures the moment that undid everyone: "My personal highlight was while sightseeing in Manhattan. Jada came to me, took my hand and we walked hand in hand on the Broadway."

Jada, then five years old, had a way of putting it that no adult could improve on. She called Torsten her "blood brother." As she told her grandmother: "If Torsten is my blood brother then he really is my family."

Steps to Marrow: A Grandmother's Mission

Jeana Moore — known to Jada as "Mei Mei" — could not simply say thank you and go home. In 2009 she founded the Jada Bascom Foundation, a 501(c)(3) nonprofit based in Deer Park, Washington. Its purpose is to raise awareness, recruit donors, and help cover the cost of the tissue typing that lets someone join a registry. The Foundation does not run a registry or process the lab work itself — it points people to the national registries, the National Marrow Donor Program (NMDP, formerly Be The Match) in the United States and DKMS in Germany, and helps get them there.

Then she started walking. Over more than a decade, Jeana has crossed deserts, states, and countries on foot to turn her family's second chance into thousands of others.

Walk 1 — Across America (2009–2011)

Jeana set out on foot from Fred Hutchinson Cancer Center in Seattle and did not stop until she reached New York City — 4,434 miles over roughly 15 months, wearing through 14 pairs of shoes. Along the way she registered more than 5,000 potential donors. The walk ended in Manhattan the day she finally met Torsten.

Walk 2 — Sea to Sea Across Europe (2012)

The next journey took her across Europe, from the Baltic to the Adriatic — through Germany, Switzerland, and Italy — more than 1,000 miles over 137 days, with some 30 donor drives and more than 6,000 people enrolled. She walked in part to thank DKMS, the German registry that had produced Jada's match. Torsten joined portions of the route, and that June, Jeana attended his wedding.

Walk 3 — The Sonoran Desert (2020)

In early 2020, Jeana walked a planned 464.9-mile route across the Arizona desert, from the Yuma area through Tucson to Phoenix. This walk had a specific focus: the underrepresentation of Native American and Latino communities on the registry, and the harder odds patients from those communities face when they search for a match. As she framed it: "The Native American and Latin American populations are underrepresented on the registry. We don't want any particular population to have that chance lessened."

Walk 4 — A Walk of Gratitude (2024)

In the spring of 2024, Jeana walked roughly 300 miles from Deer Park, Washington, to Seattle Children's Hospital — a walk of gratitude to the hospitals and teams that had kept Jada alive long enough for the match to arrive.

The Ripple Effect

Today, the Foundation reports that Jeana's walks and drives have helped register more than 20,000 potential donors, contributed to 30 or more lives saved, covered 6,891 or more miles on foot, and reached across 17 or more states and countries.

Jada's story reached beyond donor drives, too. It helped inspire a Washington state law known as “Jada’s Law,” signed by Gov. Jay Inslee, that requires the state Department of Licensing to include written information about bone marrow donation with driver's license and ID materials, putting the message in front of hundreds of thousands of people a year. Sponsored by Sen. Shelly Short, who represents the family's home district, the bill passed the state House unanimously, 98–0, and was described as the first of its kind in the nation. Jada's survival, along with the family's mission, has been featured across regional and national news, from Spokane and the Inland Northwest to broader coverage of her recovery and the law that carries her name.

And at the center of all of it is Jada herself — born April 16, 2007, now a healthy young woman, cancer-free and thriving. As Jeana likes to say: "Every child is a miracle. We call Jada our double-miracle. We want that double-miracle for all our patients."

How You Can Be Someone's Torsten

Somewhere in the world, right now, a family is doing exactly what Jada's family did — waiting for one match among millions. You could be that match.

Joining the registry is free and takes only minutes, and it usually starts with a simple cheek swab. Most people are surprised to learn that donation itself most often does not involve surgery at all: the National Marrow Donor Program reports that the majority of donations are done through peripheral blood stem cell (PBSC) collection, a non-surgical process similar to donating plasma. According to the NMDP, someone in the United States is diagnosed with a blood cancer roughly every three to four minutes.

You can join the registry — or, if you're outside the U.S., find your national registry. You can learn how donation actually works, follow the Steps to Marrow walks, meet more donors and survivors, or support the Foundation. Every one of them began with a single decision made in an ordinary moment — long before any patient, any name, or any story was attached to it.

Torsten registered for a stranger he never met, more than a year before Jada was born. You can do the same today.

Frequently asked questions

Does donating bone marrow hurt?

Most donations do not involve surgery. The National Marrow Donor Program reports that the majority are done through peripheral blood stem cell (PBSC) collection — a non-surgical, outpatient process similar to donating plasma. Marrow donation, when used, is done under anesthesia; donors may feel soreness in the lower back for a few days afterward.

Can women donate bone marrow?

Yes. According to the National Marrow Donor Program, eligibility is based on age and general health, not gender. Women can and do register and donate. Registries generally look for donors who are healthy and within a defined age range, because younger donors tend to lead to better patient outcomes.

Who can and can't donate bone marrow?

Per the National Marrow Donor Program, eligibility depends on age and health. Registries typically welcome healthy adults within a set age range and screen out certain medical conditions to protect both donor and patient. The registry — not the Jada Bascom Foundation — determines eligibility. Check your national registry's current guidelines to see if you qualify.

What actually happens when you donate — PBSC or marrow?

The National Marrow Donor Program describes two methods. In PBSC donation, the most common, blood is drawn from one arm, passed through a machine that collects blood-forming cells, and returned through the other arm — no surgery. In marrow donation, liquid marrow is collected from the back of the pelvic bone under anesthesia. The patient's doctor decides which method is needed.

Does bone marrow grow back?

Yes. According to the National Marrow Donor Program, the body replaces donated marrow and blood-forming cells naturally. Marrow typically returns to normal levels within a few weeks, and cells collected during PBSC donation are replenished quickly. Donation does not leave you with a permanent shortage.

How do I join the registry or find my country's registry?

In the United States, you can join through the National Marrow Donor Program (NMDP, formerly Be The Match). It's free, starts with a cheek swab, and takes only minutes. If you live outside the U.S., use our guide to find your national registry, such as DKMS in Germany. The Jada Bascom Foundation refers you to these registries — it does not run one itself.

Who was Jada's donor?

Jada's donor was Torsten Huber, a man from southern Germany who had registered as a potential donor through DKMS, the German bone marrow donor organization, in 2006. Out of roughly 11 million registered donors worldwide, he was her only match. Jada calls him her 'blood brother.'

Jeana Moore