Sharing what they leave behind

[okarol]

Sharing what they leave behind

Ellen Gillette
Nov. 2, 2007
LILLINGTON - There are two things people don't like to think about. Dying is usually the first. The death of a loved one comes second (first, if one is a parent and the loved one in question is one's child). The actual contents of the hot dog one is eating may follow in third, but gratefully, at some distance.

National Donor Sabbath Weekend pops up every November, sharing calendar vicinity in 2007 with Veterans Day -- two needful, yet somber, holidays to tackle at one sitting. As a veteran donor mom, I guess I'm as qualified as anyone to comment:

There are close to 100,000 names on the U.S. transplant waiting list each day. A few folks need more than one organ, accounting for double entries, but still, that's a lot of people about to die unless someone else kicks off first ... under certain circumstances ... and just happens to have died close by ... and just happens to be a good match, tissue-wise.

On Aug. 22, 2000, my No. 1 Thing I Didn't Like To Think About became a reality. On Aug. 20, Adam was just 16, driving the Ford Explorer I'd helped him buy, when it drifted gently off the shoulder of the road -- perhaps he was changing a CD or scratching his leg, the trooper suggested. When Adam tried to correct, the top-heavy vehicle went into a spin and flipped; Adam was ejected out the rear window.

Two days later, doctors pronounced him brain dead. No last-minute miracles for us, but scattered around the state were five other families rejoicing at the news that a suitable donor had been located for their loved ones.

Chuck was on life support waiting for a heart. Arnold was on dialysis; Charles, too, needed a kidney. Susan, unable to breathe freely, needed a lung. Only a transplant would do for Eleanor's rare liver disease. Two others had lost their sight -- but Adam no longer needed his corneas, no longer needed the other "spare parts" for which others hoped and prayed.

In May 2000, when I had taken Adam to get his license, we had talked about organ donation. When the time came -- so very soon after -- the decision to donate his organs was the only "easy" thing. We knew it was what he had wanted.

I encourage you to tell your family if you think it's a good idea, as Adam did. More effective than signing a donor card or having the "heart" put on your driver's license (both good practices, however), just telling your family could mean the difference in simply a death, or a death that brings life to others.

Living in an Adam-less world is no easier knowing that five people are alive today because of him, no less painful because two people can see the beauty of the world around them through his eyes. But nothing would have been gained by not sharing what he left behind.

Should the unspeakable happen, organ donation is just the right thing to do.

(Ellen Gillette is a writer and donor mom in Harnett County. The Sept. 16, 2001 N&O article "Two sons, one heart" told the story of one of the transplants mentioned here.)

http://www.newsobserver.com/opinion/columns/story/757744.html

[qwerty]

  Thank you for the thread! My husband was on life support 3 days before they were able to clear him for organ donation. We knew very shortly on his arrival to the hospital he was gone but he was a full donor so lots of tubes and a ventilator until organ matching was completed. It was what kept me going was the letters from the organization knowing how each reciepant was doing with the gift they recieved from our loss soon after that. My husband was 34 and just went to sleep with a headache one night and never woke up. Donation is what made his death have meaningful purpose for something so very unexpected and devastating. It's nice to hear someone think of the other side of the spectrum now and then.