One year my dad got really sick. The doctors said one of his kidneys was failing and he needed a transplant. My whole family, whom I thought could be counted on, opted not to get tested. So it came to me, his favorite son. I went in and got the test, hoping my blood type would match his. I really wanted to give him my kidney. After all, he had given me my life, so it seemed only fair. I was devastated when they said my blood type didn't match his, so the kidney would be rejected. In the end, he died because they couldn't get him a suitable donor. I know some folks in my family might have matched but they never got tested. Makes me sick.