One scenario, lets say, she gave blood on a day when she had had more than her fair share of panic attacks. And, had taken two or three more ativan that the bottle prescribed. Would that person, upon receiving her blood, suddenly become the most accommadating patient the nurses had ever had the pleasure of attending too? More puzzling for them, it would seem, especially, if the person in question was the most belligerent old bastard to ever grace their ward. And then, at that moment, on that very day, he suffers a massive coronary and dies with a huge grin on his face. But, not before he grabs his nurse by her sleeve and says,”You are one damn fine woman, nurse Fatima.” Whimsical ponderment.
Then just as the old thought began to fade another one trod on top of it. It said, what if she was to be an organ donor? Yes, what if? She took out her driver’s license later at lunch and scanned it. Yes, sure enough, she had signed the donor card. Should she have done that? Then it came again, that same thought, should she even give blood or an organ, for that matter? She had to ponder that thought long and hard as she twirled her license around and around between her fingers. Intense contemplation.
Blood was one thing, but an organ was another. She had lived through at least fifteen years of heavy drug use, both prescribed and the other, which we won’t specify. She cringed at the thought of the stockpile of nasty things one might find in her liver or kidneys after all these years. And, now that she really thought about it, she didn’t think there were many brain cells left either, even if she did feel generous. She wondered what kind of an organ she could donate to an unsuspecting patient, somewhere in the land of surgery, that wouldn’t cause serious side effects for days after. A serious puzzlement.
Then! It hit her. The thought came bounding right up and planted itself in front of her with a thud as it sat before her brain. It gazed at her brimming with anticipation. Then with the sigh of an impatient schoolgirl it hit her full square on the jaw, thwack. Why of course, why had she not thought of it before? She looked up at her husband. She stared at him with a grin which struck a cord of alarm in the pit of his stomach. She exploded with a giggle, scattering her fries as she reached out and grabbed his arm before the hamburger could make its way to his mouth. He just stared back at her, mouth open, a bit of worry inching into his features. He began to fear she was going a bit manic. A terrible thought. “Honey, I think I have solved my problem with giving blood” “You mean, your problem with not giving blood?” He tested the waters to see if her reaction would warrant a full scale evacuation of the mall. If she was manic, there could be casualties, it had happened before. “Yes, that too”, she paused briefly to throw an appropriate glare in his direction, then continued, “No, I mean, you know, that I have taken so much drugs in my life time that it would take horse tranquilizers to put me under, right?” Her theory squiggled through her mind. “Yep?” He replied, watching her eyeballs as if waiting for them to start rotating in their sockets. “Well, I am going to donate my body to science, not for organ transplants or anything, something else.” “And what would that be?” He was starting to relax, seeing as she wasn’t levitating off her chair, not even fidgeting, a good sign. “I want you to donate my body…when I am dead of course,” They shared a sheepish smile,”to not just any science, pharmaceutical science.” She finished with a look of triumph on her face, “I no longer have to feel guilty about not giving blood.”
“Okay, but what does pharmaceuticals have to do with whether you give blood or not?” he sat there staring, gesturing with one finger sticking straight at her, which he would flick up and down ever so often. There was a speck of relish stuck to the tip of it that seemed on the verge of flying off at any moment. “It means” she grabbed the offending digit and squeezed it, before pushing it back at him. “It means that when I die you can donate me to some company that makes aspirin or something. They will grind me up into a little powder and make Jane pills out of me. And, because I never gave blood, they will be undiluted double strength whateveryouneedemfor pills. All the drugs I’ve take will make Jane pills so potent I will heal the world or make everyone happy, whichever….anyway I will bring an end to cancer, cause world peace, and stop depression everywhere. All in one tiny little pill. They will have to be tiny too, cuz you don’t want to o.d. on Janie’s. Now, that’s an accomplishment”
“And what does that really have to do with your guilt about not giving blood?” “Nothing, I guess.” That was when all the little thoughts raced away, like rats on a sinking ship, to the remote dusty corners of her mind. And then there was no thought at all, at least for the moment, as they left the mall.