Many people state in their last will and testament that they’d like to donate their body to medical science after they die and that is indeed a most noble gesture. Without such generous people, medicine would still be insisting on daily enemas, applying leeches for everything and slapping slices of cold tripe on our buttocks to fight cellulite (please tell me it’s not just me who does that last one)!
My only problem with this, is the whole being dead thing. I mean, you miss out on all the fun. You get stript naked, handled, prodded, poked, things put in you, things taken out of you, all whilst being rather dead. Where’s the fun in that?
Which is why I occasionally donate my body to medical research by undertaking either drug trials or donating my body to research projects. For instance I’m soon to have an MRI scan of my heart, because they want to look at some healthy ones for a change, just to remind themselves what they look like I suppose and a few years ago I took part in trial for a new synthetic anthrax vaccine, giving me the unique advantage of having a 50% survival rate should I get infected. Obviously I won’t actually know which 50% I’m in, until I get infected. Then I’ll either die or live. It’s very exciting waiting.
It’s a submissive’s wet dream. I mean, it involves being asked to get naked, to lie still, to be invaded and have things done. It’s a very submissive encounter. The fact that these things are usually staffed by lovely nurses is merely a bonus.
So yesterday, after having been selected as being suitable for a particular drug trial, I went along to the initial screening session. There I was subjected to all manner of tests and procedures, all recorded and monitored by a state-of-the-art computerised drug trial screening system.
It gave several screens of results, all of which pointed to me being a fine specimen of a human being and almost certainly being suitable for this drug. The final summary screen however obviously has a bug, for there, on the big screen, for all the research staff (and me) to see, it proudly declared :
I may demand a second opinion … but then again, that’s probably the best I can hope for.