Sign Your Donor Card

I was involved in transplant surgery this past weekend, a surgery led by Dr. Joe. This is the second transplant surgery I have been involved with but the first time I’ve dealt with a scenario where there has been one donor and many recipients. I have mixed feelings now, after the procedure: sadness for the donor but happiness for all of those who benefitted.

Part of my role on the transplant team was to escort the donor to the procedure on that fateful Good Friday morning. (Well, it was a “good” Friday for some; not the donor!) It was eerie knowing that I was the last to have a conversation with the donor before Dr. Joe began. I found it odd that the donor willingly proceeded to the site of termination. I questioned the ethics of assisting in the act that would end a life even though I knew that the death would save many. I could intervene and save the donors life, but at what cost? Is terminal really terminal? What if a treatment was found and the effects of time could be reversed? Would the death of one on Good Friday really save the lives of others? If so, how many would benefit? Could such matters be reduced it a “score card” type of evaluation?

With the donor immobilized and then terminated, Dr. Joe began to remove the heart. I had the honour of helping by removing many other vital organs. Even some cosmetic donations were made. It took only a few hours to take the donor from fully functioning, albeit worn out, to a stripped-out shell. This was the saddest part for me. I hate to think that we are only a few boxes of good parts in an aging, decaying case.

But with death comes life! A younger recipient with a bad heart now has a new heart, (new to them at least) and the opportunity to live again after years of convalescing. To see her come to life again, reborn , and leave the surgery under her own power was very rewarding. But the death of one on Good Friday meant life for not just one but many by Sunday. A new heart for one, yes, but a new front end for another and a new brain for a third and boxes of hope for many more yet to be touched by Friday’s Sacrifice.

Thanks to Dr. Joe for giving life to our newest and best-looking shiny blue firefly, for fortifying the front end on my dear old friend and driving partner (515,000 km and still going), and for adding a new CPU to Heather’s pride and joy. My shelf of pretty-good parts is also growing, and has inspired me to begin planning a little cosmetic surgery on my old girl.

Sign your donor card, and you, too, can bring life where only death looks likely. Remember those who have made sacrifices for us, and always be nice to your mechanic!

She’s Been Good to Me!

She’s been there for me for more than 18 years, although she left me for a while in the middle. I forgot how much I liked her until she came back to me. Now I don’t know what I would do without her. We fit. We share common strengths: we are both frugal, both minimalists, and both starting to show our age.

I remember the first time we were together; I just knew that even though I was newly married, she was going to be part of my life. My then father-in-law was furious when he found out about her, and I can’t blame him. He just couldn’t understand. He was worried for his daughter, and I don’t blame him for that, but I just couldn’t resist her! Things got tough more than once, and she and I would go off together just the two of us and work things out. Nothing inappropriate—just talk things through, and come back more level headed.

As I said, she left me at one point. I started over and pretended not to care. I found others like her, but it was not the same. I even tried a younger version of her, but that was a disaster! We just never got along, the younger model and me. It is amazing what a difference 10 years can make. Trust me younger is not necessarily better! Fortunately for me, she came back to me, and we have been together ever since.

We reached a milestone together on Monday--one that even my father hasn’t reach in his 80+ years. It was kind of sweet in a way. We were coming to work together early in the morning, and I just had to pull over and take a picture of her. A close-up to show what we have been through together, to capture that special moment for us to remember after the inevitable happens.

To my favorite 1989 Pontiac Firefly, congratulations! I don’t think either of us has another half million Kilometers left in us.