Some very important people have come into my life that have made my decision to become an organ donor even stronger than it had been before.
Only hours after Paige was born, an incredible little boy named Hunter Steele McMullen was born, hundreds of miles away from us, but destined to become someone we loved very much.
Hunter was born with Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome, as well as some other heart anomalies, and had numerous surgeries in hopes of giving him a healthier heart.
In hopes of healing his heart, Hunter endured a surgery which would give him a normal 4-chamber heart. The surgery was new and controversial, but stood the best chance of success for Hunter. As a result of many complications after that surgery, Hunter was placed on a transplant list, awaiting a new heart.
Hunter was placed on 'status 7' on the heart transplant list, which meant he was inactive, not needing a heart at the time, but keeping him status 7 would enable him to be be put back on at a moment's notice.
Sadly, Hunter passed away at home on November 22, 1999. I miss the Mighty Hunter so much, and hope that those of us who loved him will keep his memory alive by encouraging people to become organ donors.
Please click on his dedication page to read his last update, and eulogy.
We can make a big difference simply by signing our organ donor cards, by talking with our families about our desire to donate our organs in the event of our death.
And, while we are still alive, we can register at the National Bone Marrow Registry, as well as giving blood often. Imagine how wonderful it would feel to save someone else's life.
Sometimes, people have misconceptions about donating their organs. Please check out these links for factual, up-to-date information regarding organ donation...Children's Organ Transplant Association
United Network for Organ Sharing
To Remember Me The day will come when my body will lie upon a white sheet neatly tucked under four corners of a mattress located in a hospital busily occupied with the living and the dying. At a certain moment, a doctor will determine that my brain has ceased to function and that, for all intents and purposes, my life has stopped.
When that happens, do not attempt to instill artificial life into my body by the use of a machine. And don't call this my deathbed. Let it be called the Bed of Life, and let my body be taken from it to help others lead fuller lives.
Give my sight to the man who has never seen a sunrise, a baby's face or love in the eyes of a woman. Give my heart to a person whose own heart has caused nothing but endless days of pain.
Give my blood to the teenager who was pulled from the wreckage of his car, so that he might live to see his grandchildren play. Give my kidneys to one who depends on a machine to exist.
Take my bones, every muscle, every fiber and nerve in my body and find a way to make a crippled child walk.
Explore every corner of my brain. Take my cells, if necessary, and let them grow so that, some day, a speechless boy will shout at the crack of a bat and a deaf girl will hear the sound of rain against her window.
If you must bury something, let it be my faults, my weaknesses, and all prejudice against my fellow man.
If, by chance, you wish to remember me, do it with a kind deed or word to someone who needs you. If you do all I have asked, I will live forever.
--by Robert Test