Words for My Enjoyment

Today’s Prognosis on Organ Giver-Outers

January 6th, 2007

There’s braggers…and then there’s braggers.

The innocent, harmless braggers are the ones who tell you they just got a promotion or they had a really good year or they’re feeling great or they just lost some weight or they’re on a new all-popcorn diet. The amusing braggers are the ones who tell you they just ate their weight in turkey dogs or that they’ve just finished the “entire” video game from start to finish or that they just completed that 10000 piece jigsaw puzzle.

But the people who brag about giving out their organs? I just don’t know.

It seems like these days people are all about donating their organs. They proudly check off that box on their DMV drivers license application and then wait for the badge of honor to come in the mail. Usually, at least in California, it’s a glorious little sticky plastic pink dot that you paste on the front of your license, so when and if you bite it in a big twelve-car pile up, the EMTs know exactly which parts of your body to save for organ-deprived.f

But why you gotta brag about it?

It’s one thing to be an organ donor. It’s another thing altogether to be an organ “giver outer” — which is an organ donor who must tell you every time they open their wallet to pay for something that they’ve elected to give out their organs when and if they meet their maker. Usually, and most often, the conversation goes a little something like this:

Guy #1: “Oh, hey. Check this out.”
Guy #2: “What? Your license?”
Guy #1: “Yeah. But there’s something special about it. See?”
Guy #2: “Umm, it’s glossy like the morning dew on an isolated mountain lake?”
Guy #1: “NO. I’m an organ donor. See the sticker?”
Guy #2: “Ah. An organ donor. Great.”
Guy #1: “I’m giving away ALL my organs when I die.”
Guy #2: “That’s very generous of you.”
Guy #1: “Yeah. My eyes. And my liver.”
Guy #2: “Cool…”
Guy #1: “And my heart and my kidneys.”
Guy #2: “Nice.”
Guy #1: “And my skin. For burn victims.”
Guy #2: “Oh?”
Guy #1: “Yeah, they can graft it right on a burn victim’s body.”
Guy #2: “Great.”
Guy #1: “And I’m also giving away my lungs.”
Guy #2: “Aah.”
Guy #1: “And my hands, if anyone needs them.”
Guy #2: “Very cool. Okay, so you wanna get outta here?”
Guy #1: “Can I give away my cuticles?”
Guy #2: “I don’t know.”
Guy #1: “What I mean to ask is…are cuticles a body part you can give away?”
Guy #2: “I. Don’t. Know.”
Guy #1: “Well, I’m giving those away too. When I die. To the cuticle-needy.”
Guy #2: “You’re getting into Heaven. That’s for sure.”
Guy #1: “And I’m also going to give away my knee-caps.”
Guy #2: “So basically — you’re donating your entire body.”
Guy #1: “Absolutely everything. When I die.”
Guy #2: “Absolutely everything?”
Guy #1: “Yeah. When I die.”

Snore.

Being generous is no longer “being generous” when you have to tell people how generous you’re being. Donating body parts no longer has a positive prognosis when you have to tell everyone which body parts you’re planning on donating. Especially if you’re that guy who has to wonder aloud if you can donate your cuticles or not.

So, in a nutshell…

Prognosis on organ giver-outers? Bad.

Posted under Prognosis. |