I can discuss the issue, but my heart is still hesitant

I first heard about organ donation coordinators when I read a news story in 2020. I was impressed by their courage in doing the job.

I met Wang Chulong in his office, a quiet corner room on the first floor of an inpatient building. It contains just a sofa, a chair, a filing cabinet and a desk with a computer.

As he said, donors' families and the coordinators themselves need such a simple, quiet environment so they can think carefully about the meaning of life. It's somewhere no one can disturb them.

When I asked him if his work as a coordinator had changed his perception of life and death, he simply said that he cherishes his healthy life. I was struck by the calm way the 35-year-old spoke about death, and it made me wonder what he had experienced.

While each successful coordination process means that a family is about to lose a loved one forever, it also means that another life is about to be renewed.

This feeling of joy mixed with sadness makes Wang better appreciate the here and now.

Since that interview, I have been thinking about whether I should donate my organs or those of my relatives. I can talk about donating, but honestly, my heart is still hesitant.

Many people may not have thought about the issue, or have even tried to avoid it because of a belief that it may bring bad luck.

Imagine how hard it must be for a coordinator to confront devastated family members almost every day and ask, "Would you like to donate your relative's organs?"

In China, there is still a huge shortfall in the number of organs needed each year, and awareness of donation is low.

Most of the time, people learn about the service through active coordinators. However, there are only about 2,500 coordinators, which is far from enough. I think it is worth thinking about how to protect and expand this team. After all, in many cases, the difference between death and a new lease on life is simply the absence of a coordinator.