A decade ago, that was 19-year-old Christopher Gregory’s mischievous way of explaining to his parents why he had become an organ donor when he renewed his Maryland driver’s license. He was chatting with his family on a break during his second semester at Loyola New Orleans. His father, Eric Gregory, would recall the wisecrack years later for two reasons: First, it captured his son’s sense of humor. And second, it was tragically prescient.
Just days after he made the remark, Chris died suddenly from a ruptured brain aneurysm.
In the days following his death, the Gregory family—who had flown from Baltimore to New Orleans to be with their son—grappled with their grief and shock. Meanwhile, five near-death strangers on the organ transplant waiting list got a call. They dropped what they were doing—leaving a doctor’s office, making final financial arrangements, getting ready for a cookout at work—and rushed to nearby hospitals—in Shreveport, Louisiana, and New Orleans, and in Jacksonville, Florida. Chris’s lungs, heart, liver, pancreas, two kidneys, corneas, and tissues were recovered, then flown or driven to hospitals for transplantation. Recipients included a then-63-year old family member and executive with the Bacardi Rum dynasty, who flew to Jacksonville from the Bahamas, as well as a 46-year-old entrepreneur, a 64-year-old retired office manager, and two former military men in their 50s—all from towns across Louisiana.
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