My husband, Ethan Cole, asked for my kidney on a rainy Tuesday night like he was asking.

of duty.

I turned around slowly, still holding the plastic lid in my hand.

“Ethan, this isn’t like asking me to drive her to an appointment.

This is surgery.”

He shrugged once, like I was being dramatic.

“People donate kidneys every day.

You’ll be fine.

She might not be if you stall.”

His mother, Margaret Cole, had been in and out of the hospital for months.continue reading …