High High Hopes for a Liver

Metroid Prime is one of Joey's favorite GameCube games. There's no audible dialogue, there's a lot of weird music and sound effects and it's honestly really annoying. He played through it when we were newlyweds and recently decided to play through it again. On Saturday, December 11, our "vacation" had officially started and we were staying up even later than usual reading books about dystopian organ donation (me) and playing Metroid Prime (Joey). He was almost to the final boss and long after I had given in and taken my glasses off to get some sleep, he continued playing. In our alternate reality, we were supposed to be landing in Florida that evening and I should have been removing my glasses for bedtime at Disney World.

Lauren and Kendra decided to transfer their Florida tickets to Michigan and they'd be arriving the following afternoon. Before I got ready for bed, Joey and I confirmed our plans for their visit and he said he was really looking forward to eating all our favorite food with them.

I was in that semiconscious state just before sleep when my phone rang. It was a 313 area code... at 1:44am... which could only mean one thing.

A liver was available.

I answered the phone and Yennefer (not her actual name) asked to speak to Josef. He was still awake playing GameCube so I said he was right next to me and handed him my phone. She had actually called him first, but because he assumed it was a butt dial from someone he works with, he didn't answer. 

We're both heavy sleepers so it was very fortunate that this call came while we were mostly awake.

And it was perfect as far as organ donation goes. This donor was a good match, free of hepatitis, and had a low risk lifestyle. Joey didn't hesitate to accept it. Because this liver was from a brain death donor, the timing wasn't as strict as the first time we got an offer. Yennefer had to double check a few things and then call us back with more details.

While we waited, I said a quick prayer thanking God for how perfectly this timing worked out. Though we were disappointed that our vacation week would look different yet again, we were grateful that we were already off work, already had plans for people to come be with me, and that it happened before the end of 2021 like we hoped. We put George Gershwin on the record player while Joey cooked the salmon he bought to make for Kendra and Lauren and I double checked the hospital bags and texted Lauren. Joey and I agreed that we still wanted them to come knowing that they probably wouldn't even be able to see him while they were here. 

If you have impeccable vision, you can see the time on the oven says 2:00 as in 2 in the morning!

Yennefer called back at 2:12am and gave us the specifics for the surgery. Joey was to stop eating at 8am, we needed to be at the hospital around 2:00pm and the surgery would start at 10pm. She even texted me a picture of the hallway we needed to go to. While Joey ate, we watched The Big Lebowski and tried to relax. I eventually fell asleep (kinda), but apparently Joey was up putting the finishing touches on a piece of furniture we recently bought, loading the dishwasher, and making spicy mayo for Lauren and Kendra. This guy.

"The Dude abides."

At 7:13am, Yennefer called again. "Unfortunately, we have to cancel the procedure due to a shortage of O blood." I was on the phone with her for 1 minute and 27 seconds. I think I said something like, "Oh I didn't know that was a thing. Okay. Thanks." What else was there to say? It's not her fault there's no blood.

Telling Joey was one of the hardest things I've had to do. I knew he'd be pissed off, but I didn't realize how hopeless it would make him feel. After sitting together in frustrated silence punctuated by a few hypothetical questions here and there, I ended up calling Yennefer back to get any more details she had to help us comprehend what just happened, but it didn't help much. We went back to bed frustrated and confused.

When we got up, Joey and I had a particularly heavy conversation over the bagels and coffee Whitney (the first friend I made in Michigan who also conveniently lives in the neighborhood) brought us. And then life had to go on. We got dressed, went to the airport to get Lauren and Kendra and then our vacation started. I'm glad we had them here to distract us over the days following this second, bigger disappointment. 

The number of people that have offered to share their O blood directly with Joey after hearing of our predicament is astounding. We're still trying to figure out if directed donation is even possible in this particular situation, but the fact that so many people (including people that are six degrees separated from us) have offered is powerful. 

Then there's the people that have told us they've been inspired to get back into making regular blood donations. I truly had no idea how much my efforts to get a free t shirt every couple of months made a real life impact. If our unfortunate reality has pushed you back into donating (or has been used to encourage others to do so if you yourself are unable to), could you post to social media using the hashtag #tossacoinforaliver or tag us directly? I'd love to see it. 

Also, if you're local and able, please use Versiti Blood Centers if you can since that's the blood bank that partners with Henry Ford Hospital. While that would be the most helpful to us specifically, any donation wherever you live means it's less likely other people have to experience the heartbreak and devastation we did on Sunday. Also, I know I tend to be dramatic, but "heartbreaking" and "devastating" are the actual words Joey used to describe the letdown... because there really is no other way to describe it.

Actually, there is. I liken it to the feeling I get when I see a magician or April Fools' Day comes around. Tricked. Duped. Deceived. I know it wasn't intentional like a regular old awful prank would be, but the dashing of our hopes made me feel like an idiot. I truly felt foolish for believing that it would really be happening. And I know Joey's feeling were even stronger and more complex. He said he couldn't remember the last time he received such devastating news and he warned me that he didn't know how he would handle it.

But here we are. We've got a few days left of our vacation and every time Joey's phone rings, I get my hopes up all over again. 

"We ain't gettin' any younger, to be honest I don't care
I'm not tryna to live forever, I'm just tryna be right here"

And now, a word from our spoonie: Please donate blood. It's not a marketing gimmick. The shortage is real.