College Times

Issue date: 8/14/08 Section: Blogs

Media Credit: Photos.com

Last week, I was hanging out with my sister and her roommate. We had been jamming out to the new Coldplay compact disc, which, by the way, is bitchin'. And then, as if inspired by Chris Martin and his band mates, I asked my sister's roommate a question.

Me: You work at a place that takes the organs off of dead peeps, no?

Him: You put it so eloquently (He didn't actually use that word. But I'm taking advantage of poetic justice here). Yes, I do work at XYZ (I don't remember what he said, I was in a calm and soothed Coldplay haze). We have dead people delivered to us, or sometimes we go and pick them up, and then we take what we can from their bodies and then cremate them.

Me: Oh, that's cool. (Being a journalism major, and a lover of words in general, yes, that's all I could come up with, 'Oh that's cool'.)

Then that got me thinking about donating my organs. I remember one time when I was in high school, we had an assembly and the organ donation people were there to give a presentation about it.

This one lady got up on stage and told us the gruesome facts about how she lost her cornea (Although they must have not been that gross, because I don't remember those either).

She then described how she got a cornea transplant from someone who had decided to donate their organs after they died. And gave us a sob story about how if they hadn't decided to do so, she could be blind.

Anyway, so I was thinking about donating my organs.

And, to be frank, I really, honestly don't give a shit what happens to my body after I'm gone. That may sound disrespectful to death and the dying, but it's the truth.

Whatever your religious beliefs are, I don't recall anything about being packed into the ground, in a small wooden box, in my nicest clothing, in any of the religious texts that I've read (which haven't been many, so that might not even be a valid point, but I'll say it anyway.)

Regardless, I want to be gutted like a fish and then whatever those who are still alive want to do with my remains, that's what they'll do.

Anyway, my sister's roommate disrupted my staccato thought process to hand me a bracelet. It's electric green and is Lance-Armstrong-'Live-Strong'- styled in appearance. It boasts the same message in two different languages: "Donate Life" and "Done Vida."

I'm currently wearing it, and I've gotten some questions about it. Some people have been gung-ho supporters and some have been angry and bitter.

I think I may just be wearing it now to piss people off. I still do want to donate my organs, but the sense of satisfaction at seeing someone in utter disgust over something so trivial as a bracelet just makes my day.

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