In Continuum.

It is something that we probably all do on the streets. Or rather, there are a couple of things that we do when we are in the situation. Picture yourself walking down Orchard Road, minding your own business, and something catches your attention in your peripheral sight. A human figure with a circular object in his or her hands, and neither the object nor the gender can be made out just yet. You keep on walking because you don't want to seem abnormal or weird to anybody else to stop suddenly. Your brain is still trying to process who the unidentified person and the object is, and your natural reflexes is steering you away from it because you just want to be careful, you want to make sure. If it is someone who is trying to mug you, you want to be far enough to dash, right? Anyway, that person is now moving towards you, and you can see him or her through your peripheral vision. Oh no, you think to yourself. It is one of those students trying to ask me for a donation on the streets again, and you are not far enough from that person to divert your path. You try to engage in an emergency maneuver by turning on the balls of your feet, but it is too late now. The student is right in front of you, a can pushed into your face and asking for some donation. Notes would be great, but coins are heavier. This sucks, you think to yourself, but you can't help it. The vulture has its peak in your skin, and the only way for you to get away from it is to let it tear your skin off.

At least that was how I was when I was met with a student asking for donations on the streets. The students don't care, and I know because I was a student myself. They just want to get it over and done with, and most of the adults don't really care either. We are an apathetic society for the most part, and the idea of fishing out money to put into a can just doesn't appeal to us very much. At any rate, I used to be the kind of guy who'd put some loose change into those cans either to get rid of loose change in my pocket or to get rid of the student altogether. Then, of course, I learned to give exact changes and to smile while rejecting the students outright. I haven't been donating to students out on a mission in town for a long time, and I do not consider myself a charitable person at all. In times of crisis, of course, I do consider myself to be helpful. I've donated to victims of natural disasters before, not to mention how I emptied my wallet for the children of the orphanage in India. I'm not trying to boast, but I'm just saying that there are times when I am willing to give, you know. But money is just money, they are just plastics people use to trade with in our society. My mother always say that a problem that can be solved by money isn't a problem. Well, giving money to those that actually need it really isn't that big a problem, in truth.

So here's the thing, I surprised myself at how fast I agreed to donating my organs when my friend asked about it. The same friend who asked me to donate blood in the previous entry asked me to donate my organs just because it gives him even more extra credits. It is for a public relations course, and I really have no idea what this has to do with that. Anyhow, I earn myself a free lunch as promised by him, so why not fill up a form for it? Perhaps it is the idea of not giving something right on the spot, like how you would donate money right off the bat when asked for on the streets. It isn't something that you would lose straight away, and I guess that was the reason - at least in the back of my head - why I thought it'd be OK to donate my organs if something bad ever happens to me. Though, as a Singaporean citizen, you are automatically an organ donor, apparently. You can fill out a form to say that you don't want to be a donor, or else we are all donors, if you don't already know. So, it felt like donating my hair for a cause or something, because we are already chopping off our hair when it is too long anyway, you know? It felt right, but at the same time it felt strange when I received the application card where I had to pick which part of my body I want to be dug out when I die. That was a strange experience, I can tell you that.

Here's the thing, there are a list of things that you can donate even if you are a corpse. Well, preferably, they'd like you to be a fresh corpse, because your organs would still be dazed and confused about whether or not you are dead. That is the perfect time to dig them out and then transplant it into somebody else's body to keep that person alive. It all makes sense, and people need organ transplants on a daily basis. There are lists in every single hospital in the world, I'm sure, of patients waiting for organs to be donated. But, of course, people don't donate their organs everyday, and organ donors don't die out fast enough. There simply aren't enough organs to go around in this world, which is why the black market for organs thrives so well. Anyway, so you get a card that talks about the concept of donating your organs and everything. The name, the age, and all that kind of basic information gets filled out first. Underneath that, you have to pick from a list of organs that you'd like to donate when you are dead. "Donate" is just a nicer way of saying that they need your body parts for other living people, since you are on your death bed or dead. They have the option of donating everything (which is capitalized), or to donate your chosen organ from a list of organs with little check boxes next to each of them.

Here is a list of things in your body that you can donate: Heart, heart valves, lungs, liver, intestines, femoral and saphenous veins, tendons, bones, skin, pancreas, kidneys, eyes and corneas. Now, here's the thing. If I opt for the "everything" option, then everything will go when I die, assuming that they are all operating properly. You know, they will dig out everything that they need and then leave everything else behind. Kind of like how vultures would swoop down and eat whatever that they need and leave the bones behind when they are done. I can see it now, the doctors and the nurses wheeling my body away even before my family can say anything to me, just because they want my organs nice and fresh. Who wouldn't like a nice and fresh piece of organ in their body anyway, especially when they need it. I mean, who'd want to have a heart that has been dead for half a day? You want a heart that has stopped for merely ten minutes, which is why the doctors and the nurses swoop down really fast with their knives to cut you open. I didn't like the idea of that, and the image of doctors handling my organs in their gloved hands was really weird. I mean, just picture it for a moment, and it isn't something that you can run away from while filling up that form. You start to picture your bloody (literally) lungs in their hands, being rolled around like a jell-o, and then placed into some bag or a can of fluid to preserve it, or something. It was probably the strangest thought I had ever.

So I picked the organs that are not going to leave any visible damages to my body when I am in the coffin. You know, I don't want half of the skin on my arms to have been peeled off to save a burn victim somewhere, you know. I mean, that'd be pretty ghastly to witness, if I am a friend or a family member looking in. So I picked all the internal parts that'd not be too obvious after I have donated, naming anything but the bones, the skin, and the eyeballs. I am OK with donating my lungs and everything, though I have a feeling that they will be disqualified due to my long history with asthma. My pancreas and kidneys they might take, and my dead corpse might be fine with that. After all, you can't exactly see a pair of missing kidneys or a missing pancreas from the outside. Maybe a stitched up wound somewhere, but it definitely is better than a missing eyeball. And don't try to convince me that the technology now allows you to have very realistic looking glass eyeballs. Realistic isn't real - it's just realistic. I want my eyeballs to be real even if they are dead, thank you very much. I thought it to be a natural and logical choice, which is why I filled out everything else without much questions. After all, if I look decent in the coffin, then I really don't mind what they take away. Dead is dead, right?

You know what, if there is an organ that I am more than happy to donate, it'd probably be my brain. Nobody wants brains though, not even the brain dead patients want a brain. You'd think that if your brain is dead, you want another brain to substitute the brain that you have so that you can wake up from that nine year comatose of yours. It's like having a dying liver, you'd want a good liver to replace that as soon as possible, no? But nobody wants brains, they just want their own back. If they are indeed trapped inside their head, they'd probably want to tell everybody that they want their own brains back too. But it takes time for them to wake up, if they wake up at all, and it is sometimes difficult to do so. You can't just pluck this brain out and put in another brain that belonged to somebody else. The wiring work is just too complicated, not to mention the fact that it'd take too long to do so. People don't trust that who they are is in their soul and not in their brains anymore, which is why they get so jumpy about brain transplants. Really, no, the truth is that we have no souls, because we are just a composition of organs and other biological... stuff. I'd like my brain transplanted though, because in that way I'd live forever.

Under the portion of the application form, we have to fill up another section about whether or not to donate the organ(s) for transplantation, research, or both. Well, initially, I only wanted to get my organs up for transplantation purposes. I understand how research could benefit the medical community somehow. You know, tests today could very well lead to a medical breakthrough tomorrow. Who knows, maybe my pancreas could become the reason why pancreatic cancer can be cured in the future. The possibilities are limitless in a laboratory, but tell that to the mother of a lab rat, though. Tell her that her daughter and/or son is going to be injected with strange chemicals for the benefit of mankind, then see how she takes it. In truth, I didn't like that idea very much, and would much rather donate my organ for transplantation. It is the idea that after injecting your organs with a few syringes of chemicals, they are going to dispose of your organs or incinerate them in a random oven where they probably incinerated a bunch of other organs. There's nothing wrong with it of course, in fact that is probably the correct course of action if you ask me. But like any object that has been with you for a long enough time, you tend to have this sentimental thing going on with it. That is also a reason why I am terrified of the idea of amputation - isn't it scary to anybody else out there?

Anyway, I wasn't comfortable with the idea of donating my organs for research, but I did it anyway. The reason is because, well, my uncle did the very same thing. He didn't exactly apply for organ donation, in fact he is probably far from it right now. As some of you may know, my uncle was recently diagnosed with cancer. I've used Skype to catch up with him a couple of times, and I must say that the white hair and the shallow cheeks depressed me somehow. The doctors say that for a person that late in his stage of cancer, he was surprisingly healthy. He isn't experiencing much pain, if any pain at all really. According to my aunt, he's just tired most of the time, and he has lost a bit of weight like most cancer patients would. Even though the video feed was blurred and somewhat pixelated, I could tell that he was tired and his eyes were somehow swollen. Yet, his voice remained clear and strong, and I wouldn't have noticed a hint of his illness if I hadn't had a video conference with him at all. Through his voice, he still sounds like the uncle that I have grew up to know and love. Anyway, he has been given a chance to go for an experimental chemotherapy at a local hospital, a procedure that has never been tested on human beings before. My uncle happens to fit the bill for the most part, being an adult male in his sixties, and he has the perfect criteria to be a good candidate. So he jumped at the chance of going through with the treatment with nothing at all to lose.

I remember my aunt telling me about it over Skype, and she told me how they've finally given in to my advice. About a year ago, I strongly urged them to give western medicine a chance, and they should treat the cancer as early as possible instead of going for some traditional medicine like they wanted to. My uncle was stubborn about it though, and he has always been that way even in his healthier days. Anyway, at this stage of the illness, I suppose there are only so many things that you can do. The term "experimental medication" can make anybody nervous, but I guess it only makes sense, especially when you are dealing with a terminal disease. His logic is that if it works, it works. If it doesn't work, then he has contributed - in his small way - to the medical field. If he doesn't go ahead with this experimental procedure, he will die. So why not contribute to a little something before you go? It made sense to him, and it sure as hell makes a lot of sense to me. I would probably opt for the same thing when given the chance, though it would be a difficult decision to make. I mean, the dosage is supposed to be twice as strong, but it is supposed to be twice as effective and precise. I am not exactly sure about the details at this point, but I am just keeping my fingers crossed and trusting in the doctors at this point.

Recently, my parents flew back to Taiwan to help out with my aunt and uncle. The house that I have in Taiwan is right next to the hospital that my uncle is going to be admitted into, and he is going to stay there for three months straight. All the hospital bills will be paid by the research team, which is a good load off all of us I suppose. My parents have offered a room for my aunt to stay in for the duration of the procedure so that she'd not have to drive back and forth from her home. The dog has been particularly cooperative for some reason, growling less and making less noise throughout the day. I think the dog, like all of us, know that there are things that are not exactly appropriate. I wish that I can be there, but at the same time I know that I'd be terrified. Death, as much as I have come to terms with it to a degree, it still isn't something that I want to be so physically close to, you know. The thing about such terminal illnesses is that it gives you time to prepare, and it takes your loved ones away slowly. It is still going to suck, but at least it gives you time to be mentally prepared. It certainly beats the kind of death that comes unannounced, the kind that slaps you across the face when you least expect it. But still, death is death, I don't think anybody can adequately prepare for it. I just hope that my aunt will pull through, that's all.

That is also why I decided to donate my organs for research as well. I mean, I will be dead by then, so might as well right? Anyway, despite putting them up for donation, I do not wish that they will be getting them anytime soon. I want to go back to Singapore in one piece, all safe and sound, and that is a promise that I've made to a special someone. I do not intend to go back with a missing toe or anything, and I certainly wouldn't want that either. I hope that I'd be able to see my uncle again, at least not through a stupid computer monitor. By the time the procedure ends, I'd probably be done with my studies here in Buffalo already. That also means that by the time I am done with this, he should be done with his thing. Whether or not he comes out of this healthier or worse, I suppose no one can tell for sure at this point. At least in theory, the procedure is supposed to work, right? I mean, why'd it be an "experiment" when in theory, it doesn't work? At least somewhere, even if it is on paper, it is supposed to work. I am not going to pray for my uncle's wellness, because praying is not going to help anybody at all. I am just going to hope for the best and expect the worst, and know that even if death is the end result of it all, at least my uncle will be able to rest in absolute peace.