This is real ghost stories online. So if you are the donor to someone who needs a kidney, an organ, something.

It'd be good if you're able to visit them and say,

hey, I hope this is working out for you.

I'm glad that I was able to help and I'm glad that you're doing

okay. And that's understandable if you're able to do that. It's totally different if you visit that person that you were a donor for, but you're dead.

And you're able to take that person on a journey of your life, of the last moments of your life, all the way

down to the place you were at when an event occurred that took your life all the way to the hospital table that you were on in your final moments

and then deliver a message of hope, I guess hope could be used loosely, maybe more so a message of don't

f this up. Put in a more nice term more like, you know, take care of this because it saved your life.

Don't be a dumb ass, as Red would say from that 70s show.

It's an interesting story of hope, an interesting story of someone who really was able to save a life,

even though theirs have been taken from them.

Take a listen. The holidays in my world tend to be a happy time for most gifts, parties, etc.

New Year's even 1996 was an

especially good day for me not for what you would normally think though on the

side attached to my belt I've been carrying a painter for almost three years.

There's nothing extraordinary about it. Just about every one at that time was carrying one.

What was special about this one was that this one never buzzed or

utter to sound nor vibration in almost three years. Not until that very

special day.

It was given to me by the transplant coordinator at a local hospital.

I was told that when I was paid to contact them immediately because it meant a donor had been found,

...