my story
er donor’s presence “So I thought I was not prepared for this experience but I had been really preparing for it my whole life. Being wheeled around on gurneys in the underground of this hospital had such mythological associations. I was just flooded by religious imagery. It was the crescendo of epiphany.” During this time Clark wrote poetry, including one very Japanese or Zen-inspired poem of blank verse. “I had been reading a lot of Japanese and Chinese poets and they were an influence on what I was doing. Having a transplant is like diving off of a high board: you’re either in or
you’re out. Once you jump off the end of the board, you’re in, there are no second thoughts. I have learned to trust in God, or whatever name you care to put to it. “I call Him God. It really helped me and I can say that there was no fear involved. I knew that the donor was 24 years old, though the circumstances of his death are unknown, and I feel his presence, along with a sense of responsibility to do something good with the rest of my life. To do something with it in a positive way.” • By John Brizzolara. Abridged from The San Diego Reader (12 Nov 2008). This is the second part of David’s story. Part 1 is in the previous edition of The Hep C Review. Ed.
Stock photo via www.images.google.com.au
the gods and gave it to mankind in Greco-Roman mythology, was punished by being chained to a rock and every day vultures would tear out his liver. Then it would grow back and he would experience this tremendous pain every day.
The Hep The Hep C Review C Review Edition ED65 65
June 2009
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