I of course haven't asked permission to spew forth information about someone else's life on here so for now I will just say I have no words that seem sufficient. A wonderful, amazing, generous, kind, good summer drink maker and haver of a fabulous wife friend was the first one to ask about donation. He took it upon himself to talk to his own doctor. He made a decision about what he wanted to do while we were still sitting through dialysis training all overwhelmed and foggy and creeped out. He got tested as soon as we got the donor process information.
He is a match.
I am still sticking to my learning no new information initiative, but if I recall correctly from my prior obsessive compulsive research phase, the hardest part is finding an exact match. Especially with Erik's blood type. He is a universal donor and could donate to anyone with any blood type, but he needs a very specific blood type match to be his donor. And I'm the one they call high maintenance.
The time frame? Unheard of. Or so I'm told. The chances of the first person non family member the first day after we received the donor information being a match is really just rare.
Now, we are well aware that a million different things could happen at this point, and I haven't yet warned him that he too gets to spend some quality time with the judgy social worker, but you know what? None of that matters. If this all works out then of course that will be fabulous. If it doesn't, well then he is still fabulous.
Worst case I figure he gives me a good excuse to say things like "it had nothing to do with being lazy or that I couldn't be bothered to get off my butt and drive to Euclid for a blood test because I had faith that he would be a match."
Plus, I know I'm not a match.
And I was awaiting confirmation of the whole botox swap and/or reality t.v. deal before I let someone drain anything out of my body for testing.
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