How do you feel about donating your organ's after you die? It's certainly something that has crossed your mind at one point or another. Whether you're for it or against it, chances are the act to become a registered organ donor has incurred some sort of stall on the process. I'm 24 years old, and I'm a long way off planning my death.
But if the US or the UK had an 'opt-out' system, like most of Europe, then things would be a different story. In a 'soft' opt-out system, like Spain, Italy and France, you would have to write or express before dying that you are against donating your organs. However, when it comes times to discuss donation, your family would also have a say, and even if you were for it, they could have a right to deny the donation. In most countries, something around 85% of families adhere to their dead relative's wishes, while only 15% reject them. In a 'hard' opt-out system (like in Austria), the family is not consulted. Spain is recognized as the leader in organ donations.
Why am I even talking about this? It's a strange thing to blog about, I suppose. The Observer this past Sun ran a huge story and are campaigning for the laws in the UK to be reformed to the soft opt-out system, like that of Spain. In the story, they revealed that the UK has the lowest transplants and donations in Europe, with three Britons dying each day waiting for an organ. They didn't have any facts or figures for the US, but I imagine it's not much better.
I remember one of my friend's saying that they'd never be a donor because they won't resuscitate you or attempt to save your life more than three times once your heart stopped beating, because they'd rather take your organs. Somehow I can't imagine this being the case. Especially since most paramedics aren't showing up with an organ donor truck following behind it.
I'm all for a change as well. If my organs could save five others, than my death would mean more than just my passing on. I'll say this right now, I might not be a registered organ donor, but I certainly would donate 'em all. I'm not taking them with me, that's for sure. And once I'm dead and all my organs that could be used were removed - cremate me, please!! I'm afraid of the dark. Don't stick my body in a box underground, nothing could sound worse.
Sorry for all the morbidity.
Monday 14 January 2008
Sunday 13 January 2008
Some resolutions I can stick to
My apologizes for no posts in Dec (if anyone actually noticed). Well, happy 2008! I'm expecting fine things to occur this new year. So far, things are going well. I've been sober all 13 days of 2008, and detox is paying off real nice. I've gone to the gym 9 days of 2008, shed 2 pounds, and saved countless pennies (which is always nice, given I have £58 to last me until the end of the month...).
New year's resolutions include:
1) Lose weight (20 lbs by May - that's a pound a week), get fit, and have a nice four pack.
2) Not drink so much and allow my alter-ego - I'll call her Bianca the angry slut - to finally disappear.
3) Find a nice guy to snuggle, go to the movies with, and just be happy with.
Now, I think I've actually set goals I can actually stick to. The finding a guy one, although a bit difficult, should be something I can achieve this year, as #2 should help, and moving on from my ex, who I'll call 'A', should really help.
I had an eye-opening/life changing Christmas break back in Boston. I confronted A and told him I was in love with him.
**Background: A and I broke up the beginning of senior year at UMass, after only being together for the summer. Still, we've had this weird 'on-off' relationship since than. That's 3 1/2 years of still being hung up on someone. That's, as some would put it, unhealthy.**
Anyways, after consulting with a few of my best friends from home, I decided to do that thing I thought only happened in movies and chick-lit, I decided to tell him how I felt. I believe I had done this once before, on my 22nd birthday, after a thousand shots, that I loved him, which put him off guard (I'm pretty sure he may have matched my thousand shots and upped it by a few more) and left him speachless. In my very drunken stuper I started crying (mind you, I was in Faneuil Hall in late Aug) and ran off, and had to be consoled by my best friend's boyfriend (now her fiance) until A found me and took me to a bench to talk. Sadly, I don't remember much from that.. So this was to be a bit more tactfully done. And hopefully, with a better outcome.
If it had been a movie, when I told him I loved him, and wanted to be with him, and would be willing to move back to Boston from London in a year, he would have looked into my eyes and told me he wanted me to. However, my life is not like Hollywood, and instead he told me his shit, and that he didn't want me to regret coming back. He didn't want to be my regret. At least, part of that could be a Hollywood movie, I suppose.
Needless to say, I'm not changing my five year plan anytime soon. I'm staying in London. I'm losing 20 pounds and getting myself a hot bod. I'm cutting back on the black-outs and booze. Oh, and I'm actually happy. Now if I can only find that new guy...
New year's resolutions include:
1) Lose weight (20 lbs by May - that's a pound a week), get fit, and have a nice four pack.
2) Not drink so much and allow my alter-ego - I'll call her Bianca the angry slut - to finally disappear.
3) Find a nice guy to snuggle, go to the movies with, and just be happy with.
Now, I think I've actually set goals I can actually stick to. The finding a guy one, although a bit difficult, should be something I can achieve this year, as #2 should help, and moving on from my ex, who I'll call 'A', should really help.
I had an eye-opening/life changing Christmas break back in Boston. I confronted A and told him I was in love with him.
**Background: A and I broke up the beginning of senior year at UMass, after only being together for the summer. Still, we've had this weird 'on-off' relationship since than. That's 3 1/2 years of still being hung up on someone. That's, as some would put it, unhealthy.**
Anyways, after consulting with a few of my best friends from home, I decided to do that thing I thought only happened in movies and chick-lit, I decided to tell him how I felt. I believe I had done this once before, on my 22nd birthday, after a thousand shots, that I loved him, which put him off guard (I'm pretty sure he may have matched my thousand shots and upped it by a few more) and left him speachless. In my very drunken stuper I started crying (mind you, I was in Faneuil Hall in late Aug) and ran off, and had to be consoled by my best friend's boyfriend (now her fiance) until A found me and took me to a bench to talk. Sadly, I don't remember much from that.. So this was to be a bit more tactfully done. And hopefully, with a better outcome.
If it had been a movie, when I told him I loved him, and wanted to be with him, and would be willing to move back to Boston from London in a year, he would have looked into my eyes and told me he wanted me to. However, my life is not like Hollywood, and instead he told me his shit, and that he didn't want me to regret coming back. He didn't want to be my regret. At least, part of that could be a Hollywood movie, I suppose.
Needless to say, I'm not changing my five year plan anytime soon. I'm staying in London. I'm losing 20 pounds and getting myself a hot bod. I'm cutting back on the black-outs and booze. Oh, and I'm actually happy. Now if I can only find that new guy...
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