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“I don’t want to dissuade you, but you should know the reality,” said the oncologist. “Every person on the list is ranked based on how urgent their need is within the next three months. This protocol places the sickest patients at the top of the list.”
Maggie nodded. “You said my type of cancer can grow quickly—would that make me an urgent case?”
“Not necessarily. Bile duct cancer cases aren’t always accepted by transplant centers, and livers from deceased donors often go to people with more curable diseases.”
Maggie looked confused. “So, a transplant wouldn’t cure my disease?”
“No, there’s a good chance it could since your cancer is localized to your liver, but we’re dealing with a numbers game—the need for donated livers exceeds the supply, and living in New York state makes it even harder to receive an organ.”
“Why?” Riley’s stare bounced between both women. “I thought the wait list was national?”
“It is, but organs are shared regionally, not nationally, so areas with higher populations, like New York or California, have a greater need and a longer wait.”
“So, if I lived in…” Maggie shrugged. “Idaho, my chances of receiving a liver would be better?”
“Yes.”
Seriously? Death by geography? Mom will lose out on a liver and die because she lives in the wrong state? Tears trickled down Riley’s cheeks.
“There is one other option.” The oncologist sat back. “A living donor.”
Living donor? I could save her—ME. Riley sat up like she had been given a shot of adrenaline. She rubbed her swollen nose, her eyes wide. “I’ll do it. I’ll give Mom my liver—”
“Honey, just…wait.” Maggie patted her hand. “You’re not giving anything—”
“Why not?!” Riley leaned forward, swiping tears away as quickly as the words rushed out.
Dr. McLoughlin half-smiled at Maggie then back to her daughter. “Riley, there’s a lot to consider—it’s major surgery and recovery can be painful.”
Riley refused to be dissuaded. “How does it work?”
The oncologist shifted in her chair. “Well, the liver is comprised of two lobes—the left and the right. The donor gives their right lobe, about sixty-percent of their liver, to the recipient.”
Maggie grimaced. “More than half?”
The oncologist nodded. “But the amazing thing is the liver will regenerate itself.”
“Really?” Riley listened intently.
“Within six to twelve weeks of surgery, the donor and recipient’s livers will have grown back to about eighty percent their original size.”
“That’s amazing.” Riley gripped Maggie’s hand tighter.
Dr. McLoughlin softly smiled. “The body can do some incredible things to repair itself.”
“Well…” Riley swallowed, trying to mute the quiver brewing in her throat. “Sign me up.” Her puffy nose made her voice come out nasal.
Maggie shook her head. “Riley, you’re not doing this.”
“I AM.” Eyes flashing, Riley pleaded with Maggie. “I’m an adult, Mom. You can’t stop me—”
“Riley—”
“There’s nothing you can say that will change my mind.”
Even when things are at their worst, I refuse to believe all is lost.
I will never go down without a fight.
