Linny, donor - QLD

Growing up, Mum would always work into conversation here and there about how she was an organ donor. That “should anything ever happen to me” that’s what she wanted.

I remember it on the school run in the morning occasionally, conversations about life and such. I’d heard it more than a dozen times & to be honest I’d never thought much of it or about the enormity that choice of hers held during or after the conversation. It was just a simple case of a child listening and absorbing.

So that’s the way it was, a little piece of information we never thought about, but we just knew.

When Mum had a catastrophic aneurysm, fate would have it that she was on the phone to a neighbour down the road who just happened to be a retired nurse. Because mum had primary care in critical moments, although she would not survive, her wishes for organ donation could be honoured and I believe it is fate that it happened how it did.

 Mum was smiley & happy, she loved dancing, she loved gardening… She had a beautiful little hobby farm. She worked hard and was deeply kind. She was 60 when we lost her, but we take comfort that she was happy, she died happy, loved, and fulfilled.

We have a million happy memories, and although they will never feel like enough, we take comfort with what we had & try to focus less on what was lost.

When the ambulance got Mum to hospital, the doctors rang and had to bear the bad news “there is nothing we can do” a deep fissure of pain opened in my heart. That fissure exists to this day, but it has been slowly healing from the question and actions that followed “is your Mum an organ donor?”

Thanks to simple conversations Mum had with us growing up, in a chaotically traumatic time, there was no question, there was no second guessing. It was a quick and easy “YES”.

We gave the green light and the ball started rolling. We spent precious time with Mum as her recipients were called to action. With the passing of one life, the chance for the extension of others was in motion.

Both lungs, both kidneys, both eyes, liver, skin for burns patients and further tissue for research. The pain and grief of losing our beautiful Mum unexpectedly will linger, but the blow is softened knowing her wishes were honoured and that she impacted so many lives.

Not just the recipients themselves, but their families, children, parents, friends, loved ones. All gifted time. There is one thing in life we can’t get back, time. However, with a simple conversation you might find your family in a position to provide more.

You can’t get back time, but you might be able to gift it.

There is peace in me, knowing there are people out there with a new chance, that get more time, thanks to our Mum. I sometimes find myself wondering, do they have a newfound urge here and there to dance on the front porch of a quaint Queenslander in the bush, or smile bright when the smell of soaking rains hit dry earth, do they have a new penchant for shopping at Bunnings or a newfound love of ducks.

The DonateLife team were incredible, the care and support they provided is still ongoing to this day. If you’re worried it will be a hard and lonely process, should you find yourself faced with the question of donation, don’t be. Even when the years have passed by and the ebb and flow of sadness has eased, the DonateLife team will still be there for you and your family.