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No, and l never will be in favour of organ donations. My natural Mediumistic instinct screamed at me the moment this became accepted practice in UK hospitals. My personal lifelong allergies to medicines, vaccines, and all medical interference guides my first reaction, and my last, never ever ever go there. We are our bodies, we are every living part of it, as it, is us as well. Our bodies carry all of us in every cell, in every nerve, in every tiny miniscule part of our physical form, we have invested an entire alphabet of living parts so small, each carrying billions of blueprints only known to us individually. We don’t come off of shelves like AI does, we are different every time, not one of us is identical to another human, even identical twins walk apart. I was so troubled by the whole scenario decades back, l sat and wrote a play about it for TV. Life never let me go beyond the one submission on that subject, to a major TV channel, who, promptly called my play too much for anyone to take. Too far fetched. Can you get more far fetched than playing Frankenstein? I still have that play, it’s about a mum looking for her missing son, he’s been trafficked for his organs. I saw that in my mind’s eye from day one. I created a vile doctor trading organs, of homeless disenchanted youth, runaways, living on our streets. I didn’t make it pretty, l didn’t make a hero, l killed off the good guys who’d revealed his evil, l knew we couldn’t win, and oh look… We never did. And that’s before l got to write about my natural Mediumistic instinct using the many, many, many known reports of new recipients of organs, inheriting the dead patients characters.
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No, and l never will be in favour of organ donations. My natural Mediumistic instinct screamed at me the moment this became accepted practice in UK hospitals. My personal lifelong allergies to medicines, vaccines, and all medical interference guides my first reaction, and my last, never ever ever go there. We are our bodies, we are every living part of it, as it, is us as well. Our bodies carry all of us in every cell, in every nerve, in every tiny miniscule part of our physical form, we have invested an entire alphabet of living parts so small, each carrying billions of blueprints only known to us individually. We don’t come off of shelves like AI does, we are different every time, not one of us is identical to another human, even identical twins walk apart. I was so troubled by the whole scenario decades back, l sat and wrote a play about it for TV. Life never let me go beyond the one submission on that subject, to a major TV channel, who, promptly called my play too much for anyone to take. Too far fetched. Can you get more far fetched than playing Frankenstein? I still have that play, it’s about a mum looking for her missing son, he’s been trafficked for his organs. I saw that in my mind’s eye from day one. I created a vile doctor trading organs, of homeless disenchanted youth, runaways, living on our streets. I didn’t make it pretty, l didn’t make a hero, l killed off the good guys who’d revealed his evil, l knew we couldn’t win, and oh look… We never did. And that’s before l got to write about my natural Mediumistic instinct using the many, many, many known reports of new recipients of organs, inheriting the dead patients characters.