riotthill

Warren

Transplants and organs for sale has become a hot topic on TV these days.

In an interview, one doctor shrugged when he was asked if he cared where the donor organs came from.

Another man told the interviewer that his mother accepted an organ from a poor foreigner, rather than the one he had offered her. The donor, an 18-year-old girl from China, died shortly afterward. When asked if he and his mother believed that wealthy peoples’ lives have more value than the poor, he said simply, ‘that’s the way it is.’

Brokers pay the poor a few thousand dollars for their organs, then sell them to patients for thousands more.

And yes, I do know whereby I write in this blog. My husband suffered acute renal failure some years ago. He underwent dialysis for 6 years while he waited for a kidney to become available, receiving his from a young man who died suddenly. My husband, another kidney recipient, and others who received this young hero’s heart, lungs, pancreas, liver and corneas, are alive and living quality lives today for the compassionate and brave decision he and/or his family made.

We do not know the young donor’s name, but he lives in our hearts day and night. Now, since watching TV tonight, a young Chinese girl joins him in our prayers, and so many others who are offered cash instead of compassion by the wealthy, their doctors, their families.

Before Warren received his transplant, he signed up with a New England company that we now know was one of these horrible brokerages for human organs. They were aggressive and expensive and we asked them repeatedly to stop calling and emailing us, which they refused to do until after he received his transplant in Ottawa.

These brokers in human organs play upon the desperate, whether they are the poor who are lured with what they probably believe will be ‘easy money’, or the sick who want to be well, and their families.

The Ottawa General Hospital, Ontario, Canada, where my husband had his transplant, has a strict policy in effect: They will accept organs for transplant only from family members or the deceased who have signed their donor cards, or their families, who, like our young donor, agree. Otherwise, these exceptional transplant teams simply refuse to do the surgery.

On December 7th, we will celebrate Warren’s second anniversary of renewed life.

We will honor the young man who died early that same morning in 2007, and the doctors, nurses and support teams whose skills made Warren’s recovery possible. We will recognize the gifts of modern medicine, dedicated medical teams, and especially the kindness of strangers who have sacrificed so much, but there will be little room in our hearts and prayers for people such as the ones mentioned in the first paragraphs who don’t hesitate to take advantage of others.

China

Two of my cats have decided to hate each other, transforming my focus on them from affectionate to obsessive, passionate and fixated. Why, you ask? Well…our cats, like most family pets, are a goodly portion of my attention during sunny, and currently dull, dark and stormy days.

And why, you ask, are your pets behaving this way? No idea, I respond with a quick shrug. The answer for their newly-fostered hatred of each other lies in some misty corner of feline detente, or lack thereof, but nevertheless, challenges me to juggle cats: put China out, sneak Liefi in. Feed Liefi while China sleeps, pet and make a general fuss with China as Liefi plays. They are both adorable purring little darlings with me. They’re both nasty creatures, all tooth and claw, howls and growls with each other.

Here comes my obsession, passion and most decidedly my fixation. When I think about my cats’ mysterious behaviour, I can’t help but gravitate to the similarities between their confrontations and those that beset our world. Why do we hate each other? Why do we think dragging out the metaphorical teeth and claws will resolve the problems we’re dealing with? And why, even when we as nations try to communicate along official or unofficial channels, do we find the need for hissing, spitting and growling our threats instead of joining hands to find our commonality, singing great harmonies to celebrate our differences? Not something to easily shrug off, neither the tragedies we create for ourselves, nor the terrible consequences as we allow our confrontations, our hatreds, to roll out of hand.

Lascaux cave wall paintings

Quote of the Day
History never looks like history when you are living through it.
John W. Gardner

But what then, is history? I make history each day I wake, pushing layers of coverlets and cats aside, feet finding the floor as I push myself upwards and out, adding more breath to the lines and subplots of my life. But do I live it? Yes and no. A Buddhist will tell you that unless you live ‘in’ the moment, aware of each little twitch enveloping you, you are lost in fantasy. Yet, a caveman might grunt, ‘it’s all about the hunt,’ while he regales you with stories of what was and what will be.
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