Back in May I turned 25, which in Ohio meant I had to renew
my driver’s license. I actually almost forgot, but remembered the afternoon
before my birthday and hurried to the BMV where I got a new picture that gets
double-takes because I was randomly wearing my contacts and dropped a bunch of
money I wasn’t planning on spending—fresh into unemployment. It was the usual
schpeel, though thankfully without a line; I was actually in an out within
twenty minutes, perhaps a new record. There were all the normal questions: do
you have insurance, are you a citizen, height, weight, etc etc.
“Would you like to be an organ donor?” she asked across the
counter, showing such little emotion.
I replied to her with no hesitation, “Yes.”
Prior to that, I had not been an organ donor. There was not
a little heart on my driver’s license, just a letter than meant I had to wear
corrective lenses while driving. I hadn’t even considered it, despite having
heard testimonies in school and in driver’s ed. It’s strange how they show you
videos of dismembered bodies to promote safe driving, but then encourage you
donate your organs in case their instruction doesn’t work. I even met a double
lung transplant once by chance; she works at the bookstore I occasionally visit.
For some reason I felt that my body should remain whole upon
death—a selfish thought carried over from my youth. I had no explanation for
that reasoning other than that.
A while back I met a young man who knew he would eventually
be placed on the transplant list for a double lung transplant after a lifetime
of lung infections related to cystic fibrosis had ravaged the set he was born
with.
His lungs weren’t destroyed by something he did—not by
smoking or exposure to chemicals in the workplace. This happened because of a
rare genetic mutation. Rare as in only 30,000 people in the United States have
the disease—that’s significantly less than how many people die each month from
heart disease and just about equal to how many die each year because of car
accidents. Diabetes affects almost 1000 times as many people in the United
States. Over five million people in the United States are believed to be
suffering from Alzheimer’s. Cystic fibrosis affects just 30,000 people
nationwide, 70,000 people worldwide. Columbus, Ohio—the nearest major
metropolitan area to where I live—is home to around 800,000 people. Even if we
looked at the Columbus suburb of Delaware where I went to college, there is a
population of about 35,000.
I think that should give you some perspective. Because I
just looked up those numbers to write this and even though I already knew some
of those statistics, it still did for me.
My cousin will eventually need a double lung transplant too,
as will the young boy who lives up the street from me. They too suffer from
cystic fibrosis.
It is surreal to me that right now a friend of mine is in
need of new organs. And even though I have known this disease since my cousin
was diagnosed just a handful of months before her second birthday—a late
diagnosis, actually—almost nine years ago, it has only been within the last few
months that it has become real to me. Before meeting that young man, who has
since become a very good friend, earlier this year, the idea of a double lung
transplant hadn’t even crossed my mind. I knew it was a possibility, but I
didn’t know it would happen
eventually. Now I can’t help but recall all of those dramatic episodes of ER and Scrubs. Do you remember “My Lunch”? Or the movie John Q?
Generally the word ‘surreal’ is used to describe good
things: things reminiscent of fairy tales or our favorite dreams. But I can’t
find a better word to describe how am I feeling. It’s bizarre knowing that
someone else must first die in order for someone else to live.
How do you pray for that?
I’m still trying to wrap my head around it. I don’t think I
ever will and to be honest, I’m not sure I want to. I’m not sure that is
something I want to think about. But whoever it is who ends up giving this
gift, I want to thank them while I still can.
