On March 3 I told the ICU at Lehigh Valley Hospital to take my brother Danny off life support. Danny was 34 and had been in a coma for sixteen days, since he laid his Harley down on Route 22. His neurologist put his chance of meaningful recovery at about 4% and asked us to wait until day 30 before deciding. I declined. Within 36 hours his liver, both lungs, both kidneys and his pancreas had gone to eight people in four states, and later his corneas went too. In expectation, I traded 0.04 of a brother for eight strangers. It is the best trade I have ever made, and I used to day-trade options.

I hold Danny’s medical power of attorney because nobody else in the family can read a spreadsheet. Our mother wanted to wait for a miracle. Danny’s girlfriend, Tasha, also wanted to wait for a miracle, but she had no legal standing, which simplified things. I understand the impulse. A miracle, though, is just a 4% event with good PR, and while my family prayed, about seventeen Americans a day were dying on the transplant list. Nobody in the waiting room wanted those seventeen on the whiteboard. I put them there, along with a small term for the $9,000 Danny owed me. I’ll get to it, and I set it to zero.

The model

EV(withdraw on day 16) = N·q·s − P(w)·Q − 0·L

N    = recipients (8)
q    = QALYs gained per recipient (~9)
s    = organ viability at day 16 (0.9)
P(w) = probability Danny wakes (0.04)
Q    = Danny's remaining QALYs if he wakes (~11)
L    = the $9,000 (included for transparency, weighted at zero)

The recipients’ side comes to about 65 QALYs. Danny’s side comes to 0.44. Q is generous. The neurologist’s best case involved a feeding tube and a great deal of Wheel of Fortune, which I scored at 0.28 quality weight across forty years. The waiting room was treating a 147-to-1 trade as a close call.

Why not wait

The day-30 recommendation sounds prudent until you price it. Organs are a perishable asset. Ventilated patients get pneumonia, and lungs go first. By my estimate, viability would have fallen to about 0.7 by day 30, which costs roughly fourteen QALYs. In return we’d have gotten information worth at most 0.44. You would never pay fourteen dollars for forty-four cents at a car dealership. You’d especially not do it in a hospital, where the dollars are other people’s kidneys.

Consent

Danny checked the organ donor box at PennDOT in 2009. It was the clearest statement of values he ever made, his wedding included, which he left early. My mother says checking a box at the DMV is not consent to dying two weeks ahead of schedule. But the box doesn’t specify a date. I chose the date that honored the box most fully.

The $9,000

Danny borrowed $9,000 from me in 2023 to buy the Harley, the same Harley. I’ve been accused of motivated reasoning, so here is the honest version. If money were my motive, I would have waited. In the 4% of worlds where Danny wakes up, he’s alive to repay me, which makes his consciousness worth $360 to me in expectation. I gave up $360 for eight strangers, and I’d ask my critics what they’ve given up for eight strangers lately.

As executor, I have since filed a $9,000 claim against the estate. It was approved quickly, because I approved it. The bike was totaled except for the engine, which I’ve kept, since it was collateral in spirit.

Afterward

I posted “My brother Danny is a hero. He saved eight lives.” on Facebook, and it got 2,400 reactions. Gift of Life asked me to speak at their spring gala. The recipient of Danny’s liver, a nineteen-year-old in Ohio, wrote a letter through the procurement organization. I wrote back thanking him, and gently noted that the true donor had been the decision procedure.

My mother hasn’t spoken to me since the funeral. She keeps asking “what if he would have woken up?” I’ve explained that “what if” is a question about one world, and I made a decision across all of them.

The neurologist says there’s no way to know whether Danny would have woken up. That’s exactly why I didn’t wait to find out.