CHAPTER THREE

SARAH stood to one side of the stage as the master of ceremonies gave his introductory spiel. Straightening her dress, she wished again she’d worn her fail-safe LBD instead of this uncharacteristic purchase. But somehow, when she’d gone shopping for shoes with her sister, she’d ended up buying the very bright ruby-red dress she was now wearing. Not for her sister’s wedding, not for anything in particular and not even with this evening in mind.

Tori had convinced her to buy it. The task had been easy once Sarah had started to imagine what Ned would think if he ever saw her in this dress. A ridiculous reason and now she was paying the price.

Shot through with gold, the red silk shone in the lights, placing it in a different league to the sedate dresses she usually wore on such nights. From the audience’s perspective she looked demure; the dress had long sleeves and a high, rounded neckline, but it was virtually backless and she was now feeling exposed. She had no problem being in the spotlight for her work or for her public speaking skills—it was what she did all day, every day and it came as naturally as breathing after all these years. But in this dress she suddenly felt like she would be stepping onto the stage as a woman with desires and sensuality, a woman who just happened to be a doctor, as opposed to a respected professional who just happened to be a woman.

It was only as a woman that she ever felt vulnerable.

She was the second of three speakers at the gala dinner for National Organ Donor Awareness Week. Representatives from two families were speaking. A donor family had preceded her and a recipient family was to follow. Her speech was from a medical perspective and she was intent on keeping any personal twist out of it. She had different speeches depending on the basis on which she’d been invited. Tonight she was here as a doctor, not as someone with a personal story.

She was here to deliver the facts and her speech was being videotaped and snippets would be shown on TV news programmes for the rest of the week. A less than perfect delivery was not an option.

With the MC’s introduction over, Sarah stepped up to the microphone, checking the autocue was showing her speech and not somebody else’s. She knew her speech by heart but wanted the autocue to hand, just in case.

She scanned the room, picking out a few spots in the crowd where she could focus her attention. The au dience was attentive, watching her with anticipation. It was a group of the converted faithful after all, here because they were interested. There were some high-profile sports stars and media personalities in the audience who’d given their time and presence to promote awareness of the need for organ donations. Silently clearing her throat, she took a deep breath, found a few friendly faces and began, finding her natural rhythm as she progressed through her speech.

‘This year alone there are over 1700 people waiting for donated organs. Without transplants, these people will continue to live restricted lives, lives ruled by medical appointments, medications and machines. That’s assuming they are able to stay alive, because the harsh reality is, without organ donation, a number of these people won’t make it at all. Every day is critical.

‘There are over five million registered donors in Australia, almost a quarter of our population, but our current donor rate is point-zero-zero-one per cent.’ She paused to let the figures register. ‘So only one out of every one hundred thousand Australians actually becomes an organ donor. We have one of the lowest donor rates in the Western world.

‘I know you are here tonight either because organ donation has affected you personally or because it is a cause you believe in. But our message this year is, please, do more than believe, make sure you register as a donor. And, please, encourage your family members to register too, talk about it together. If you can’t bring yourself to register, discuss your feelings with your family so they are aware of your wishes.’

She went on to talk about a few specific, anonymous cases and saw plenty of people, men and women, with tears in their eyes. She’d managed to move them with her words and now hopefully, if they weren’t donors already, they’d seriously consider registering.

‘Confronting your own mortality is not easy and most of us do anything to avoid it. But we never know what is waiting for us around the corner. Take a moment now to look at the people around you.’ Again, she waited while the room buzzed briefly, wondering where she was going.

‘In a moment, in the not-too-distant future, one of you could find yourself depending for your very life on the incredible and brave gift of a perfect stranger. Or it might be your child’s life that hangs in the balance as you watch the clock ticking inexorably on, praying and hoping against time for a miracle. The reverse side of that is that every one of you also has the power, through registering yourself as an organ donor, to be the maker of miracles.

‘In this room tonight I know there are a number of people who wouldn’t be alive if not for a successful transplant. You might well be sitting next to someone whose life has been saved in this way.’ The room was perfectly still and quiet, but people were flicking glances about them, wondering if they were, in fact, sitting next to a transplant recipient. She knew she was bordering on being sensationalist, but getting the audience to commit emotionally to her topic was the very best guarantee they would change their behaviour once they left here tonight. She leant towards the microphone a touch. ‘Those people are most likely only with us now because of the gift of a perfect stranger. Because of that gift, they have a whole life to live. And each time this happens, that gift gives entire families their lives back to them whole, too.’