I had a discussion with a co-worker about his Christian beliefs and my non-religious tendencies. My parents raised me by the golden rule: “Do unto others as they would do unto you”.
Our plan for Saturday was to meet some friends in Lexington, MA (halfway point for all of us), have some lunch, and maybe take a little walk. Our plan hit a snag when one of the friends got sick Saturday morning. Fearful of passing along an illness to two people who really can’t afford to get sick right now, they canceled. (Get well soon kids!) Always up for an adventure, we decided to head down to Lexington by ourselves. I had scoped out an Indian restaurant–Royal India Bistro–that got high marks from all the Boston foodie sites. I really love Indian food, and Derek has luckily come around to my way of thinking.
We found a parking spot right out front and as soon as we opened the door to the car, we were hit with the smell of delicious curry. I took that as a good sign. We were seated in the front window which had lovely light on such a dreary, cloudy day.
I read this recent article from New Scientist on placing gunshot victims in a state of suspended animation as a potential life saving operation. It is an insane and futuristic process.
NEITHER dead or alive, knife-wound or gunshot victims will be cooled down and placed in suspended animation later this month, as a groundbreaking emergency technique is tested out for the first time.
Surgeons are now on call at the UPMC Presbyterian Hospital in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, to perform the operation, which will buy doctors time to fix injuries that would otherwise be lethal.
New Scientist, 26 March 2014 by Helen Thomson
It’s even crazier to me to hear the common misperception that organ donors are less likely to be saved because their organs are more useful to others. This FDA approved trial tells me something drastically different – the medical profession is all about saving lives, no matter how unlikely the chances of success.
I know, I know. Reading a book called This is How You Die, seems a little morbid. But it’s actually a really fascinating writing prompt. Each of these short stories features something called, “The Machine of Death.” The machine can predict how you die, but not when you will die. All of the stories are a little different, but they all center around the premise, what would you do if you could find out, from a machine, how you will die, and once you find out how you will die, how will it change your life?
I heard about this book from one of my favorite internet comic artists, Ryan North who is one of the editors and also one of the short story authors. Short stories are about all a person with my attention span can muster these days, so this book is a nice temporary distraction.
A couple of people have told both Derek and me that they are really excited about the surgery. This is typically followed up with, “Is that weird?” It’s not weird, it’s exciting! It’s exciting that it’s even possible to take part of my liver, give it to Derek and then have both parts grow back to full size. Plus, it will be so great for Derek to have a new liver that actually works! No offense current liver. You did what you could. We’re not mad at you, we know you tried, but it’s time to hang up your liver hat. Yes, I have conversations with Derek’s liver, is that weird? I also have chats with my liver, you know, trying to prep her for her new mission in Derek’s abdomen. I like to treat it like she’s a spy going under cover. Don’t tell Derek.
If I had to put a name to the emotion that I feel most, I’m not sure I’d call it excitement. I’m thinking I should think up a German compound word for this complicated emotion. It might be a combination of excitement, nerves, fear (is that the same as nerves?), happiness, anxiety, anticipation, curiosity and if this post is any indication, a healthy dose of crazy. So that would be:
1. That feeling you get when you’re less than three weeks away from giving 60% of your liver to your husband.
2. That feeling you get when you’re less than three weeks away from getting 60% of your wife’s liver.