As most kids will tell you, they can't fathom living to see twenty-one. Twenty somethings cringe at the thought of the big 3-0. Most ninety-year-olds will tell you they never imagined being such an age. People keep living even though they do necessarily look forward to more life. Somewhere along the way, they were told that you have to try to stay alive no matter the circumstances.

Such was the case of Jesica Santillan, a tiny 17-year-old girl who needed a heart and lung transplant. Doctors at Duke University Hospital put in a new heart and lungs with the wrong blood type. The organs were Type A, and the girl had Type O-Positive blood. The body naturally rejected the organs, and doctors scrambled to place new organs into the girl for a second time.

Although they successfully put in the correct blood type organs, Jesica's brain had dealt with too much stress for a lifetime. Three different hearts in less than a week can affect a body in adverse ways. Now, the family and the hospital will no doubt squabble over compensation money for the death of the child. It is the American way to cash in on any and every tragedy that we endure, but that's not my beef.

My question is whether a second operation should have been done at all. It seems like attempting one heart surgery is drastic enough, and if the body couldn't handle the original very well, there is a good chance it will tire of the new one. Putting in new organs may prolong the life for a few years, but a weak body will inevitably have complications to new organs as much as the old ones.

Why do we have to save everyone? Why is a life worth two transplanted hearts? What are we saving them for? Just in case everyone has forgotten, there are billions of humans populating the earth. Thousands are born and die every day. Schools are full of little kids, retirement homes are full of old folks, the workplace is full of adults bustling their days away. Death will come to all of them, and in the end, there is nothing we can do about it.

There are many old people suffering away their twilight years, but we'll keep them alive. Kids with cancer, hang on little buddy. Mentally ill, stay alive we've got a place to put you. I meet new people all the time, and I don't notice anything extraordinary about most of them. They are just people, and for better or worse, all of them will die and be replaced with other people.

I'm all for living, but I happen to be a jaded realist as well. When it's time to go, then go. We only get one chance at this thing, and we should not overstay our welcome. My body and brain have lived in ecstasy and turmoil together for a good long time, and if one of them decides not to work with the other any more, it's time to go bye-bye. Pull the plug, pop the extra morphine, close those peepers, and call it a lifetime.

While this attitude may sound like I have a serious death wish, it is surprising how much the opposite is true. Every day is another opportunity to get it right, to improve at something, to learn a little about my fellow man and the world around me. I want to be tired at the end of the day from so much living. This is my one chance. I'm only living this life once, and I plan on dying once as well.

Some folks live way too long while others hardly stand a chance from the get go. Do we have to save terminally sick and ill? Is it so important to stay alive when death comes calling? If so, why? How many hearts should we get? How many lungs? Kidneys? Livers? Chances?

While we're here, let's live a life worth living. It is never too early or too late to depart. As an old wizard once said, it's not how long you live in this world that counts, it's what you do with the time you're given.

Chris Jungle is an organ donor.