Look. Get me to the Polish-German border, find me a backpacker, a public restroom, and a cooler with ice and I'll have a kidney for you.
At first thought, I mused, "I don't want a dirty backpackers kidney...." but then I remembered than my last kidney legit came from a heroin user.
True story: when they called me to offer the kidney, they told me that they had to disclose that it came from a "high risk" person. They can offer these, and they test them to make sure they are free from disease (and of course damage), but they have to tell the recipient. You can deny these offers, but you're basically a fool if you do. Their screening processes are amazing these days, but they warn you that you might develop some rare form of like hepatitis C or something. Anyway, my last kidney came from a young man who overdosed. He wasn't an organ donor - his parents agreed to donate his organs when he was declared braindead and on a respirator.
It often makes me think of the fact that what was one of the best and most miraculous days of my life, it was the worst day in the life of other people. I gotta keep that in mind when people say something like, "God gave you a gift...". I wonder what God gave that other family.
Sorry, got metaphysical there. But that shit haunts you as a recipient of a donated kidney. Life is friggin' crazy.
Bt