Be a Donor, not a Dunno

Reading about Hui Yi’s heart transplant story reminded me of why I chose to become a doctor. What attracts me to the matter is the fact that, in the attempt to save Hui Yi’s life, we had managed to cross the barrier of skin color,religion and culture. The first donor came from a Malay boy. It was unfortunate that she experienced organ rejection but I guess she is destined to live a longer life as she managed to get another donor, a Chinese boy who passed away in an accident. A miracle, actually.

There are people out there who are more willing to fight over where a person should be buried after they die, when religion conversion is involved. They would go all the way fighting for their deceased loved one, to be buried or cremated. Wouldn’t it be phenomenal if people would fight for their love ones to donate the much needed organs? When we pass on, what we’d leave behind would be the memories of what we were. The body is just a vessel for our souls, a carrier to sustain our gist for the preset drama we need to live called life.

I could have been on that team. Should I have stayed on in the government hospital, I would have been amongst one of the medical officers who’d make the transplant team. They were taking form just when I was about to bid farewell to my overwork-underpaid but satisfying job, to a greener grass. For the record, I did move on to a greener pasteur, but sometimes, eating stale grass is more satisfying, in an odd manner. I believe it is called “masuchism”?

The clinical director of the Heart and Lungs Transplant Unit of IJN, Dr Mohamed Ezani b. Taib, (they misspelled his name in the newspapers by the way), is this workaholic cardiothoracic surgeon. I loved referring my patients to him those days because I know I’d leave my patients in good hands when I send them over to Mr Ezani ( as in the surgeon “Mr”). That and the fact that he is super cute and funny too, but oh so married. (Damn!! It is true what they say about the good fellas are all taken!!)

Regrets? A little. No, I’m no longer talking about Mr Ezani. Please stay focus people. But in life, one needs to make a sacrifices especially when off springs are involved. The joy of seeing your child benefit from what ever sacrifice you make in life is tremendously gratifying, so much so you tend to forget what was the important thing to you, that you had given up in the first place. I made my choice. I see myself as a greatest mother, then, a great doctor. I never looked back really, but on days when my hormones get the better of me, perhaps just a few seconds, I’d surrender to self pity.

Organ donating is the perfect proof that beneath all this hype about racism, at the elemental level, we are all the same. It doesn’t really matter if you are a Malay carrying within your chest, a Chinese heart you obtained from organ transplant. We should all dismiss trivial matters and see the big picture. Organ donation saves lives. Racism is a waste of time. Let’s complain less about things that do not go our way, but do the things we can do to make a difference in this world. Start small by donating our organs to the people who may need them. ( and no, I do not work in the IJN advertisement unit...) .

"It is not so much about what the world has to offer, but what we bring into it."