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February 07, 2006

Isabelle Dinoire

Iím intrigued by this face transplant story on so many levels. From a relatively young age Iíve harboured a fascination with surgery. I remember in GCSE Biology we were sat in front a video of a heart transplant operation and were told that we could leave the room at any point if we couldnít hack it. It was just after lunch and by the end of the lesson there were only three of us left, I for one couldnít take my eyes off the screen, it was better than a soap opera any day. The fact that you could take an organ from one body and make it survive in another was amazing enough but to witness the operation (probably edited somewhat, the lesson was only an hour long after all) well it is not something Iíve forgotten, to say the least.

But that was a heart and this is a nose, lips and some cheeks and how much do I wish I could have stood in that room and watched, if only to understand just Ö how?

But hiding under all these layers of wonder at modern medical advancement lays a human story that I wish I had written. Depressed at the state of her life a woman takes some pills Ďto forgetí but in her state of languor, her dog fears that something is wrong and tries to rouse her. It is not until she comes round and tries to light a cigarette that she finds she has no mouth in which to put it.
Meanwhile, however many miles away, another woman in a similar mental state succeeds in taking her own life. Her family agree that her organs can be used to save anotherís life, or at least make it more bearable.

Yet there is so much on which we can only speculate. What was happening in each womanís life to make her feel so hopeless in the first place? Those of us with our glasses half full and a longing for some sort of closure, would like to think that after travelling to hell and back Isabelle Dinoire has had an epiphany and that the depression has miraculously gone away. The rest of us are left wondering if this is really the case.
But most of all I want to know what happened to the dog?

Isabelle if you ever need a biographer you know where to come.

Posted by purple elephant at February 7, 2006 08:51 PM