Saturday, 9 June 2012


Waiting for a transplant is a lot like being suspended in limbo. The poet Coleridge beautifully wrote that Limbo is "positive negation" - an existent nothingness - it exists yet it is a hollow void, where time stands still and life does not proceed.

   Tis a strange place, this Limbo !--not a Place,
   Yet name it so ;--where Time & weary Space
   Fettered from flight, with night-mair sense of fleeing,
   Strive for their last crepuscular half-being ;--
   Lank Space, and scytheless Time with branny hands
   Barren and soundless as the measuring sands,
   Not mark'd by flit of Shades,--unmeaning they
   As Moonlight on the dial of the day ! ...

There isn't much I can do until I get my call. And not knowing how long you're going to have to wait casts an un-easy and slightly un-settling shadow over the whole thing. It could be NOW, it could be in a month, could be 5, 7 months... a year? How do you plan for that? A proper job is out of the equation, holidays are a no-go. So you wait. Someone pressed pause on my life remote. It IS a strange place Mr Samuel. A strange un-place. Weary, lank, barren and soundless. I imagine this is how a ghost might feel. Occupying a space yet not really there, never aging, simply existing. But of course, unlike a ghost who's immortal time is never ending, at least I know one day this phone will ring, and suddenly time and life and the here and now will burst into motion - someone will have pressed play and Coleridge's soundless barren nothing will be replaced by a deafening "HOLY SHIT!" Never has a silent phone seemed so loud. It is the biggest thing in my life at this moment. At times I forget about this whole weird palaver (transplants are weird. Good, but weird) but when I catch a glimpse of the now pink day-glow monstrosity that is my phone, I think my heart does a little serendipitous jump of joy. I can only equate it to what Christmas eve feels like when you suddenly remember Santa's on his way (eek yay!). The excitement stops both my heart and my breathing for a second, sometimes so strongly to the extent that I hope I won't be needing any of those organs added to my list... just yet. Two is quite enough! (and the bit of gut, don't forget the gut...). In plain english, it's exciting. Coleridge - MY limbo is exciting! Yes quiet and frustrating, but I just know that soon it'll give way to the most important and amazing thing like, EVERRR.

So this silly pink phone never leaves my side. I've turned into one of those chicks who are ALWAYS holding their phones. I know it's far from lame, but it feels really lame. If I ever go clubbing (not likely given my current physique and health) I would be just like those annoying people that are glued to their phones throughout the whole night, twittering or texting or writing a facebook status "omg i'm so drunk i'm having the best time EVER". LIES. Get off your phone then? Anyway, that won't happen. But I just wish my phone would hurry up and ring so I can eventually get back to Oceana.

I'm kidding. Anywhere but Oceana. Even limbo - no, even Hell would be better.

(I could make a pun about going clubbing at Heaven, but i'm just not.)



  1. Great blog! Keep at it. Very moving.

  2. Really enjoyed this! Just signed up to the organ donor register :)