The other day I was talking to an old friend and during the course of our conversation he mentioned how he hated being simply a number these days. To him, everyone he deals with personally and professional ….. every business, every doctor, every vendor, you name it, see him as only a number. People don’t seem to remember his name, but will know his account number or some other number associated with him.
I’ve written in the past about my love of numbers. I love statistics, I used to crunch numbers for a living and post heart transplant, numbers are still a huge part of who I am ….. within a few days of my transplant, I learned I was a number …… specifically, I am number 1293 ……… I was the twelve hundred, ninety-third heart transplant at my Transplant Center. There were 1,292 before me and now, about 200 after me. I’m proud of my number and I always will be. Those closest to me know my number. I play it occasionally in the lottery. However, and it’s a HUGE however, I am NEVER treated like a number by the people who gave it to me. I’m always called either by my first name or by Mister, which is a formality I’ve always disliked. (Mister was always MY dad!) I always get total respect at all times from the folks at my center. And, these people know more about me than I know about myself. In fact, they know all of my “numbers”.
Special request ~ If there are any folks reading my blog from Ohio that are currently on the UNOS waiting list for any organ, I’d like to hear from you. There are a couple of people from a Ohio university working on a media project about being “on the list” and they would like to hear your story. Let me know and I’ll get you the info right away. Thank you!!