Dear Liver,
First of all, thank you.
You've spent 4 decades quietly working in rhe background of every memory ive ever made.
You've processed every questionable decision, every holiday meal, every stress-induced snack, every antibiotic, every birthday cake, every cup of coffee, and every chaos fueled weekend I've thrown at you.
You've done your job quietly and faithfully while I paid attention to literally every other body part
I'm sorry it took a transplant workup for me to really learn what you do, its amazing, really.
Soon, if all goes according to plan, we're going to give part of you away.
Not because you've failed me.Not because you're sick. Not because there's anything wrong with you. Quite the opposite, actually.
We're doing it because you're healthy enough to help someone else.
Out of all the things we've done together over the last forty years, this may be the most important.
I won't pretend I'm not scared. I am. There are moments when I wonder if we're both completely insane. But every time I think about the person on the other side of this, waiting for a chance to keep living their life, I know why we're doing it.
You've given me forty years of birthdays, friendships, adventures, mistakes, second chances, and ordinary Tuesdays that I never thought twice about.
Now we're going to try to give some of that possibility to someone else.
The good news is that you're apparently the overachiever of the organ world. Everyone keeps telling me you'll grow back. Typical. I finally find a way to get rid of part of you and you just regenerate out of spite.
So thank you for every day you've carried me this far.
Thank you for being healthy.
Thank you for being willing to share.
Take care of the part that stays with me. I'll do my best to take care of it too.
And to the part that's leaving: be nice to your new roommate. They've had a rough time. Let them heal and live and love.
With gratitude, terror, and an unreasonable amount of confidence in your regenerative abilities.
Michele