I had the opportunity of accompanying my dad to one of his follow-up appointments with the nephrologist. As we waited in the waiting room for our turn, a gentleman and his wife came in. He was tall, fit, and in what appeared to be excellent health, I surmised he was not a transplant patient. I was sitting close enough to the receptionist's desk that I could overhear their conversation. Yes, I was a busybody and listened in and not a bit sorry that I did. As it turns out, he was beginning the process of being a live donor, for whom I don't know, that was not discussed. After his paperwork was finished, he and his wife sat and waited to be called to the exam room. I wanted to go and hug his neck for the sacrifice he was about to undergo, not to worry I didn't embarrass myself nor my parents. I also noticed this piece of handiwork hanging on the wall
On a desk near this wall hanging was a book documenting various quilt squares that were part of a quilt honoring those who had died but had donated their organs so others might have an extended life. They were quite moving.
I saw a bumper sticker that said something to the following effect: Recycle yourself, be an organ donor. In this state of uber-greeness, it made perfect sense.
I'm contemplating very seriously becoming an organ donor, it would stand to reason, wouldn't it?