So, the letter. This is what people usually send to donor families. It’s basically a thank you letter for the replacement part. Now, I feel like I may embody this interaction:

Andrew Jacob, astronaut. A man barely alive.

– Narrator

Gentlemen, we can rebuild him. We have the technology. We have the capability to make the world’s first bionic man. […] Better than he was before. Better… stronger… faster.

– Oscar Goldman

So after surgery and many blood transfusions, I have been rebuilt. No more pesky gallbladder, a new liver, a rebuilt stomach, and repaired kidneys.

So, I won’t share the whole letter, as I think that is mostly a thing between myself and the family, but here is the opening of the letter. (Sharing this slightly more for me, so I actually print the thing and fucking send it. I tend to get distracted…)

The letter represents the end of a 400 day moment that started at a hospital. A long journey that took me for quite the spin. Trying to navigate this and work at the same time, just up to 60 days ago, is not something I would wish on anyone. But you learn to deal with things.

I waited a few months to send this. I figured their family will be grieving, and the last thing they might want is a letter from some guy saying, “thanks for the liver and all the fish!” So I held until now.

Figured now is a good time. It kind of marks the end of the first chapter. More to come in a different form.

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Hello,

My name is Andrew, and I am the recipient of the liver from your loved one.

That was probably the hardest sentence I have written in a while. And it sounds devoid of feeling and unemotional. It’s basically the facts. Very Dragnet. (And even though I love the Tom Hanks/Dan Ackroyd version, I have to go with the Jack Webb/Harry Morgan version….

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And again…off I go. 🙂