Should I be an organ donor?
I wonder if I made the right decision to be an organ donor. You see it occurs to me that in the event of an untimely death someone might receive the parts of me undamaged, hopeful of a renewed lease on life. They may need my eyes to see again, My heart to pump blood steadily throughout their body or skin grafts from a terrible burn.
When I signed yes to that question on the day I received my drivers license it was an easy answer. Of course. I wasn't going to need them anymore and it would be good if someone can use those things.
Now I want to know how to change my answer.
Okay, it may sound crazy, but just wonder. What If your organs carried with them remnants of the life you've had? Can I specify the organs to donate? Cause there are some it might be cruel to share.
My skin I think would be okay. Its relatively untouched... other than scrapes, bruises and the like. It could be advantageous to someone. Check.
My eyes would be okay too. They have been regularly rinsed by and by, it doesn't matter the cause does it, they might not remember. Check.
My heart, That's the one I don't want to give. Take the rest, they can be useful and provide for some unfortunate person in need of them.
You don't want my heart. It will pump your blood, certainly. That's not the problem with it and if they figure out a way to remove all emotions then go for it! If its possible to transfer those feelings burned deep with in it, pass on it and just wait for another one.
You will end up hating me for giving it to you. You will end up back in your hospital begging your surgeon to remove it or you will dig at your chest desperately trying to dig it out yourself.
I don't want that! I feel responsible for it already and that's why I want to get off that list!
I'm not saying I'm stronger than anyone else, or the only one who has had a broken heart. I know better than that. Its just that the cumulative effect of the years spent in duress may be such an acute shock to the new bearer!
I've had time. Years to deal with each crack that developed time after time. I'm accustomed to the sleepless nights or the taunting dreams that show me what I could've had. I have had to deal with the losses and pains that have brought me to my knees. I've been there screaming at the starlit sky while I stood there alone crying, asking why. No one was with me as I wandered aimlessly among the forest seeking solace or any relief when my wife left me, dropping my wedding ring unceremoniously in the underbrush, and where I still do not recall.
How could I inflict such torture to an innocent person that just wants to live? How do I change my answer?