Lung

Over the years, my friends have changed. As a matter of fact, they've changed quite drastically. There are a few whom have persevered and stuck with me, but for the most part, we all went our own ways. Sometimes this fact makes me sad, but most of the time I do not think of it.

Recently, I reconnected with several old friends. We updated each other regarding what we have each been up to over the past few years and now exchange a rare e-mail here or there. To be honest, there is a part of me that wishes I had time to go visit each of these people and to catch up face-to-face. The fact is that I am too busy to do the same. Heck, if I actually have time to see my husband, then either a.) something is wrong or b.) I am having a slow day.

One of my old friends, my "brother" as he used to refer to himself, e-mailed me to let me know that the sister of one of other friends is currently in the hospital. The woman has always been sickly. She was diagnosed as a small child with cystic fibrosis. Her prognosis, from the beginning, has always been grim. I remember briefly researching the illness when we were younger. Although I was able to comprehend how serious the condition is, I did not think that it would keep this girl down. I somehow thought that she was above the diagnosis -- like it could not actually affect her as it did others. She had good doctors. Her family had money. She was stubborn as hell. Moreover, she and I used to play together and carpool home together from school each day. I saw her regularly and she seemed normal to me. Although she stayed home from school more often than myself, she, in my naive eyes, was fine.

Today that young woman is in the Intensive Care Unit. She had to be incubated last week. She needs a new lung. Without it, she will die. She is literally in the middle of the battle for her life. Time is her enemy. She turned only twenty-five last Sunday.

I am told that the woman woke-up briefly the other day. She was cognisant regarding the situation. She accepted her fate. I am told that she stated that she knew she was dying and took time to say goodbye to each of her family members and reminded them each of how much she loves them. Per others' reports, she seemed at peace.

This woman's only hope now is that someone else will be a little less fortunate than she so that she may somehow inherit his or her lung. If she were lucky enough to receive such a gift, her body would have to accept it and then she might have a chance at survival.

I am not sure that she will get that chance. It kind of appears that she is worn out and may be tired of fighting. It seems that her departure from this world may occur rather soon.

I do not write about my old friend to depress you, my reader. Instead, I journal it here to make you think. Are you an organ donor? If not, why not? If, heaven forbid, you were on your way out of this world due to a horrible accident or some other unpredicted fate, wouldn't it be nice to leave this world by saving someone else's life? Perhaps your lung could be the one that saves this woman's life. Perhaps you would be her ONLY means of survival...