I worked as a transplant coordinator, and that job was soul crushing every day.
One of the worst moments was being on the intake phones. It a phone number every hospital in the area calls whenever anyone dies. They report the details of the death, and we determine if there’s any possibility for donation.
I knew my uncle had been sick, but nobody told me they put him in hospice care and had withdrawn treatment. I took hundreds of calls, maybe thousands, but I still remember the feel of the receiver in my hand when the voice on the line said his name.
There were many sad stories, many sad days, so much that you become numb to it. It was horrible, but it made my job easier because when the numbness sets in, you can think of the trauma and empathize.
