Organ Morgan

When I received my new passport last week, there was a leaflet for the Organ Donation service, and it made me wonder if I was on the register.

The reason I might not be is that as a new born baby in 1981, I had a blood transfusion. As this was in the days before they screened donations, it precludes me from giving any of my own red stuff, which is annoying.

As it turned out, a phonecall confirmed I was on the organ donation register (apparently I'd ticked some box on a DVLA form) and the issue I had in mind didn't matter. As long as you're not HIV positive or have CJD, you're all OK. This cheered me, as it would be good to know that when I finally roll a seven, my lifeless shell might actually do some good for people still living.

When I was younger, I remember having arguments with my brother as he wasn't keen on giving up his bits and bobs when he finally did hand his cards in. He couldn't explain it beyond not liking the idea of having his heart, lungs, whatever cut out after death. In recent years, I'm happy to say his stance has changed, but I remain baffled by people who find the idea so unappealing.

I've been told, and I hope to be corrected on this one, that there may be some religious beliefs that get in the way. If this is true, then it confused me even more. Surely if there is a god, they would be very happy with the idea of you saving lives after your own has ended. After all, this is a mortal body, to be left behind when you pop your cork. Isn't it your soul you're supposed to worry about? If so, then I'd think keeping a few others ticking over is bound to help you with the bod upstairs.

I'm aware I'm simplifying and even being a bit facetious here. My general point is, you're going to die, so try to do a good thing and agree to help someone out after you cash in your chips. Assuming you aren't mangled to death in a mincing machine, or something.