esrosedotblog

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I got my new driver's license yesterday. No exam. Another five years of driving without the dreaded written test. I failed the first two I took. You get three tries. Always a worry.

There was one thing though. There is an organ donor program. You put a little sticker on the license. It means they can have all my parts.

This has come up for me before. I am surprised that, being a progressive in all my affairs, this is not a slam dunk decision; but it is not.

I hem and haw. I worry about who is going to get my spleen.

It used to be just the eyes; now it is everything unless you make an exclusion.

I am the guy who also cannot give away old clothes because I 'don't want anyone else wearing them'.

I don't know where this comes from. I usually blame my mother for such phobias; for that is what it is.

It is not the squeamish thing. I don't get all yeeech about their prying my eyes out or anything. Maybe it is an atavistic thing. A desire to remain whole. Eternal life.

What if there is a judgment day and I show up without half my body? It is a bit like forgetting your passport or losing some luggage on a trip.

I don't know.

But I got over myself (with a little push from John who has already signed up) and put the little dot on the license. They also have an on-line registration so that if the little dot falls off they still have a shot at getting my organs. I didn't exclude anything. I guess some stranger will be wearing my clothes.

But, I am not really worried about it. It turns out that the chances of getting into the program are slim. You have to have a violent death! The stuff has to be fresh.

I will do my best.