Max needs you.
JOIN THE REGISTRYUrgent — Blood Stem Cell Donor Needed
Max Has Weeks to Live.
A Cheek Swab Can Save Him.
A 15-year-old pianist, student, and brother is running out of time. Out of 40 million registered donors, zero are a match. You could change that in 30 seconds.
Max Uribe, 15
What You Can Do Right Now
This is not a donation of money. This is a cheek swab. It takes 30 seconds. It is free. It is painless. And it could save a life.
Register
Sign up at the registry. Takes 2 minutes.
Receive
A cheek swab kit arrives at your door within days.
Swab & Mail
Swab your cheek. Seal the kit. Drop it in the mail.
Save a Life
If you match Max or any patient, you'll be contacted. Donation is similar to giving plasma.
If you are between 18 and 35, you are eligible.
Are You the Match?
Who Can Help Max?
years old — the ideal donor age range
of Latino patients find a fully matched donor
chance you'll be asked to donate — but that one call saves a life
Max's best chance comes from someone who shares his ancestry
You could be the one person in the world whose cells are compatible with Max's. Even if you don't match him, you might be the miracle for one of thousands of patients waiting for their cure.
CHECK IF YOU'RE ELIGIBLEA Father's First TikTok.
A Son's Last Chance.
Juan Uribe had never posted on social media. Not once. But when you're told your son is dying and the world's largest donor registry has come up empty, you stop caring about algorithms and start caring about miracles.
"I'm posting this because I need your help to save my son."
That single video, raw and unpolished, hit 20.5 million views. Joe Jonas shared it. Meghan Trainor shared it. Over 100,000 people joined "Team Max." Twelve thousand people signed up for cheek swab kits in the first 24 hours alone.
But Max still doesn't have a match.
The Numbers
donors on the registry worldwide
matches found for Max
is all a cheek swab takes
Out of the entire NMDP registry — 40 million donors worldwide — only two people were a potential match for Max. After further testing, neither one worked out. Even Max's own twin sister is not a match. Max is now at zero.
The Clock Is Not
a Metaphor.
Max was six when his blood first told a story no parent wants to hear. Low platelets. Low red cells. Low white cells. Doctors ruled out leukemia and watched. For years, they watched.
In December 2024, his numbers dropped again. In August 2025, a bone marrow biopsy revealed what his doctors called "pink flags," followed by six words that split his family's life into before and after:
"You should add a transplant doctor."
The diagnosis: a rare blood disorder that, left untreated, will become MDS (myelodysplastic syndromes) — a type of blood cancer that can progress to acute myeloid leukemia. Both can be rapidly fatal, causing bone marrow failure, severe infections, and uncontrolled bleeding.
The only cure is a stem cell transplant. The only way to get a transplant is to find a donor. The only way to find a donor is you.
His father puts it plainly: "With my son's timeline, it's crunch time. We're in a little bit of a race against the clock because of the progression." Doctors estimate Max has weeks before things get worse.
Why Max's Match
Is So Hard to Find
Max is half-Colombian from his father and a mix of Italian, British, and German from his mother. Patients are most likely to match with someone who shares their ancestry — but the donor registry does not reflect the diversity of the people who need it.
Only 13% of the NMDP Registry identifies as Hispanic. For a kid like Max, with a complex, mixed heritage, the math is devastating. The system was not built for him. But you can rebuild it — one cheek swab at a time.
Who Is Max?
He is not a statistic. He is not a case number.
Max is a 15-year-old who stood up for bullied kids before he was old enough to understand why it mattered. He is a brother who looks out for his twin sister. He is a curious, dedicated student with big plans for his future. He is a pianist with original compositions on Spotify — music he wrote with hands that still have so much left to play.
He deserves to grow up, to play that piano on a concert stage and to live a long, full life. You have the power to make that happen — register today.
"Every father is going to gush about their kids, so I apologize — but he's incredible."
— Juan Uribe
Max's Story is Just the Beginning.
Since Juan's video went viral, other families have come forward. A 3-year-old boy in Utah of Cambodian and Norwegian descent. A 22-year-old of Haitian and Irish heritage. A young child in Max's own school community. All searching. All struggling. Many too afraid to go public.
"This is more widespread than you think. There's lots of other patients that are searching and struggling and don't want to be publicly identified."
Every person who joins the registry doesn't just give Max a chance. They give a chance to every patient whose genetic twin hasn't yet stepped forward. One swab. Countless lives.
views on first video
sign-ups in 24 hours
Team Max members
increase in Latino sign-ups
Max has weeks to live.
Not months. Weeks.
His father, a man who had never posted on the internet, put his face on camera and begged strangers to save his son. The least any of us can do is swab a cheek.
Share this page. Text it to five people. Post it everywhere. Because somewhere out there, Max's genetic twin is scrolling past something right now. Make sure the next thing they see is this.
"Everyone should really get added to the registry as quick as possible. It's the easiest way to save a life."
— Juan Uribe
If you are of Colombian, Brazilian, Puerto Rican, Cuban, Dominican, or any Latino/Hispanic heritage — your registration is especially critical. Max's best chance at a match comes from someone who shares his ancestry. The registry needs you. Max needs you. Right now.