One month and five days ago I had a little surgery on my neck. I had two levels of my cervical spine removed and replaced with cadaver bones and metal plates. I have to tell you, it has been an experience. I am healing up fast and well.
One of my first adventures out of the house was when I drove to meet some friends for a birthday lunch. My friend, who is a little goth (not the emo kind, more like the true kind: in spirit), asked me if I had the life story of the person who donated my bones. Nah, when a person donates bones and skin, they go to a bank. It is not quite like organs (hearts, livers, kidneys) where they track them and the match has to be more concise. With bones and skin, the process does not have as high of a risk of rejection as vital organs.
But, I still think about the fact that some person died and was kind enough to leave their parts and pieces for people like me to use. So, I named that unknown person Scarlet.
Why Scarlet? Because I have had an attraction to red since the surgery. I even died my hair red. I am not sure how much of a fake identity I want to develop past that point, so we will leave it at that.
No comments:
Post a Comment