Today was the funeral for a guy I went to college with. We weren’t super close, but we went to a very small school. There are high schools with more students than our college had, so it’s not hyperbole to say that everyone knew everyone else there. P. had piercing blue eyes and a nearly perpetual smile that lit up his face. He was one of the Good Guys. Last Sunday he was in a horrific car accident, and he sustained a massive head injury that the doctors could do nothing to fix. P.’s wife had to face what must have been an unfathomably gut wrenching decision to terminate life support on what was her husband’s birthday. She held off until the next day; he passed on from this world leaving a devoted wife and twin kindergarteners during a holiday season that will forever be tied to loss for them.
When I signed the guest book at the funeral home this morning, a sorority sister of mine and I noticed that there was a medal on display that mentioned organ donation. We sat together and listened to the words of P.’s pastor, trying to keep our composure since both of us had forgotten tissues. Then the pastor said that P. was an organ donor and that in dying, he helped 8 different people receive the gift of life. Eight people might have a Christmas with their families only because P. won’t have a Christmas with his. Composure was out the window. In dying, he gave others the chance to live; what better, more fitting gift could there be at this time of year?
But what does this have to do with Titanium Girl? Her surgeries involved fusing both the anterior (front side) and posterior (rear side) vertebrae together. To achieve this, bone material is placed between the vertebrae, and this eventually grows together to form a solid column of spine. Her anterior procedures made use of her removed ribs for this, known as autologous donation, because she donated it to herself. However, those sections of ribs weren’t enough to fuse the posterior side after fusing the anterior side, so they used donor bone from a bone bank for the posterior procedure. Someone gave her the gift of their bone to stabilize and fuse her spine together so she won’t be hunched over and unable to breathe for the rest of her life. Someone’s death may not have given her life in the same, more immediate way that a heart, liver, or kidney might, but it gave her life just the same. It gave her increased lung capacity and lower stress on her heart. It’s not unlikely that it added years to her life and certainly health to it as well.
Titanium Girl required blood after the final surgery, and we’d prepared for that possibility ahead of time by arranging several family members to donate specifically for her. Thankfully, she didn’t need all the units that were donated for her, so the leftover units were released for others to receive. It was important to us that none of that blood would be wasted, that someone else could have the gift of life as well.
DH and I have long been registered organ donors, since the time they started letting you put that on your license. And we’ve told our friends and family that we’re donors, an important step, because some hospitals won’t proceed without asking next of kin for permission, even if you’ve indicated you’re an organ donor on your license. We’re also blood donors whenever we can be. We feel very strongly about organ and blood donation, and I hope you’ll consider becoming an organ donor and letting your family know of your intentions. P.’s death is one of the most tragic I’ve known, but I couldn’t help but think of the amazing gift he left to others, and how our very own daughter benefited from someone else making the same decision. Hug your loved ones tight; life is precious.
