After a long struggle and multiple peaks and valleys of hope and despair, my sister’s husband, John, has died. At the time, he was waiting for a donor liver, and had every reason to think one would come into his world soon. (Shortly before the last days, the family had the urgent call to come to the hospital and prep for surgery, but the organ available was then judged unsuitable.)
A post-mortem request from the family is that you — you — declare that you are an organ donor. I know that as in all matters public and private, people will fall into teams supporting and decrying the practice. Some note that organs and tissues are recycled in an unfair manner, with the less-deserving somehow showing up high on the list. (Think Dick Cheney’s heart.) That may be true, but as more organs come available in more geographic regions, the wait list shrinks a little and the bottom moves upward.
It’s an easy pledge to make on your part — see my Washington, DC, driver’s license here, which I didn’t have to print up myself or anything — and when the time comes, you won’t even know it has occurred so it will cause you no trouble.
Pledge to allow the possibility, and tell your mates you have done so.