"I was thinking that I'd just leave you in the corner for the cats to gnaw on," the spousal unit said when I mentioned something about wanting the cheapest funeral possible when I croak. "It would cut down on both funeral costs AND cat food bills. It's a win-win."

Twue lub. You just can't beat twue lub.

We've been getting a stream of update e-mails about the condition of the spousal unit's friend, Robert.

When the two of them were at a meditation retreat this past fall Robert didn't feel well, but he put it down to seasonal blahs. Late in January he collapsed from unexpected liver disease which has progressed to liver failure.

He's in an ICU in Toronto now awaiting a transplant, his partner Danny by his side. An appeal has been put out amongst their friends for a live donor. To my amazement, you can give the bottom lobe of your liver to someone and your own liver regenerate within about six weeks.

I am amazed by this.

The fly in the ointment here is that Robert is our age, and all his friends are his contemporaries. Donors can't be over 50 and we all are. He's not close enough to anyone younger than 50 to ask them to donate a body bit. His partner Danny is the wrong blood type.

Unless there's a miracle, Robert doesn't have long left. There are far more people who need transplants than there are organs or donors.

Danny and Robert have been together as long as the spousal unit and I have. Each update I get, I think about how it would feel to sit in an ICU and watch my life partner slip away.

This morning's update was brutal, so when I went downstairs to breakfast and filled the spousal unit in, I blurted out how it would kill me to face something like this with him. He pshawed my fears, told me I was silly to worry because we're both healthy.

I told him that if I ever got that sick I would do my best to make it easy on him.

He eyed me solemnly. Realizing that seriousness would not work, he went for the silly. "Can I get this in writing?" he replied.

I was a bit miffed. I wanted some drama, some protestations of his undying love for me.

"If I die before you, I don't want a big funeral, just a simple cremation," I ventured, again trying to weasel out some protestations of his undying love for me.

He then promised that he'd use my lifeless remains for cat food.

Which, of course, cracked me up.

There are lots of qualities to look for in a life partner. I lucked out when I chose one who can still make me laugh at myself without feeling bad or putdown.

--Marn