I overhear someone in a cafe today talking about performing a liver transplant, or delivering the organ in a cooler, or something instrumental to the match up of organ to patient. The kind of job you have in your hero dreams. “When the patient’s beeper goes off,” he says, “the patient has four hours to get to the hospital.” Whether that’s four hours to get to the hospital or to get prepped and be in the OR, is a good question, but that’s irrelevant to this story. What I thought was, a beeper? Is this the 1990s? What if the beeper malfunctions or someone calls the wrong number? Don’t you want to make sure you reach Larry Who Kinda Needs a Liver?
I decide that’s a job I’d want. I want to call Larry and tell him, “Dude, there is a liver with your name on it.”
I’m sure the name wouldn’t be right on it (contamination!), but it would probably have its own clipboard.
The point though, is how about that for an amazing job? You call people who want to hear from you and tell them life is on the way. I could do that all day.
Short of that, we can all be organ donors and feel pretty good about it. Well, right now anyway. No promises that it won’t suck to be dead.