I was probably supposed to be doing something on my To Do list when I got sidetracked by an on-line ad for the Organ Donor Registry.
I went to the Service Canada website, followed the links and before long I was staring at a list of parts to potentially donate. I've always thought that carrying a permission slip in the depths of my purse was a rather tenuous means of communication; so deciding that there was no time like the present I decided to register officially which bits and pieces of me to pass on when I no longer need them.
Later that evening, Paul and I were having dinner in front of the TV, when I told him that I had registered and which parts I was donating. I could tell that I'd been more drastic than he felt comfortable with.
"So how are we going to have a funeral?" he said, and I could sense his discomfort with losing all of me at once.
"You can have a memorial service instead," I said, but I was already thinking of how important it was for me to have those tender last moments with Mum after she died; I'd been a little rash, I thought.
So I went back to the website and found that it had been easier to follow the links to give than to find out how to take back. Fortunately though, there was a place where you could enter a question and ask for a response by email so I left a message there then kept looking.
Perseverance paid off, and soon I had found my way to a page where I could make my selection again. This time I made my choices with family in mind and felt relieved to be able to tell Paul that he would have something to hold onto after all, if I go before him!
When I checked my email later, there was a message from a Senior Inquiry Officer named Wally at Service Ontario, giving me the instructions I'd asked for.
I wrote back:
Thank you Wally, I managed to figure out how to rescue my bones, eyes and skin from the donation choices. It just seemed too hard on the family member I discussed it with!All is well again in Belinda-land.