I still remember sitting in the nephrologist’s office. Posters of kidneys on the walls. Daniel’s leg was bouncing nonstop. My hands clenched in my lap.
“Chronic kidney disease,” the doctor said. “His kidneys are failing. We need to discuss long-term options. Dialysis. Transplant.”
“Transplant?” I repeated. “From whom?”
“Sometimes a family member is a match,” the doctor said. “A spouse. Sibling. Parent. We can test.”
“I’ll do it,” I said, before I even looked at Daniel.
People ask if I ever hesitated.
“Meredith, no,” Daniel said. “We don’t even know—”
“Then we’ll find out,” I said. “Test me.”
People ask if I ever hesitated.
I didn’t.
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