I had a friend offer me his liver yesterday. No joke. I don’t need a liver and I don’t plan on needing one, but if I do need one I genuinely believe that I’ve got a liver available to me. Not for any good reason but because life if just like this, the two of us had not talked in a couple of years so it was great to have a short but in depth conversation about life, the stuff my family is going through, and what’s been going on in his world. Here’s the thing, this guy is the kind of person who is serious when he says that he’ll give you his body part. I’ve never seen him give a body part away before but I’ve  seen him give his jacket off his back to people (literally), I’ve seen him give generously to people time and time again because that’s what he does. He gives.

Another friend of mine just registered as a bone marrow donor. Donating blood is something, donating a couch to Goodwill is another, but donating bone marrow makes you a pretty awesome person. Lets all raise our hands if we’re registered as a bone marrow donor? Anyone? Bueller…Bueller…When I asked him about it and tried to show how impressed I was by his awesomeness (as a quick side note it brings me joy that ‘awesomeness’ is actually a word) he seemed slightly annoyed that I’d even think it was anything beyond what a normal person would do. He asked me why he wouldn’t register to do it…and I quickly came up with a number of reasons that I kept quietly in my head. He seemed to think that it was a normal and decent thing to do to give something freely that you had available and that could possibly save someones life. I’m not sold on his logic but I see his point…ok, maybe he’s right.

I’ve never given blood. Not once. I don’t like needles. My friend gives his liver away, my other friend gives his bones away, and I’ve never given an ounce of my blood away.

After being in the rehab facility for a few days I woke up one morning at 4:30 AM to a woman touching my arm while gently waking me. It was a phlebotomist and she was going to draw my blood…yes, at 4:30 in the morning. Turns out they were worried about my platelets and my morning poke became a ritual for the remainder of my stay in physical therapy. Every morning between 4:30 and 6:00 a phlebotomist would come in and jab me for some blood. It became ritual, I’d anticipate their arrival, they’d use the same bruised hole every time, I’d always make some goofy joke, they’d never laugh. It was nice. It became normal.

My friends give their bodies away piecemeal and the only person I’ve ever given a part of my body or blood away to was myself. What’s up with that!? I want to be like Daniel and Chris. Who’s with me? Who wants to give away a liver or two (we have two right)?

Tomorrow I’m throwing my liver in the ring and there’s nothing you can do about it.

PS…should this have been a Father’s Day blog?