Labor Day Weekend 1992
It was Monday night — around nine PM when she called. Our transplant coordinator. She told me there was a liver available for my then-twelve-year-old daughter. Did we accept the offer? Could we be in Pittsburgh by seven AM the next morning?
I didn’t even know what to ask her about the donor. In the end, it came down to this very simple litmus test — “If you were me — would you accept?” She said, “Yes”.