When I’m dying, I need to donate my life

I was about to give up. 

I’ve got cancer. 

No amount of chemotherapy could save my life. 

But the worst thing for me was that I had to give it up. 

 I was the only person in the family with a terminal illness. 

When I told my mum I was considering suicide, she went straight to the doctors and they told her to make sure she didn’t go into shock and go into a coma. 

 That’s when I realised that the only way to save my family was to give my life a testicular transplant.

I’ve never felt better about giving my life to save others. 

So when I’m faced with a choice between a life I’ll never be able to live or a life that I won’t be able, I’m in it for the long haul. 

 But for me, the choice is made. 

Because it’s not easy.

I don’t want to have to choose between giving my body to someone else and having a life with my friends. 

It’s something that I’m trying to live for myself, and I’m so happy that my decision has paid off. 

There’s no way I can do it, but I’m doing it anyway.

I can’t believe it, because I knew what it would be like to give in to my own selfish urges. 

And I’m glad that I’ve given in. 

This story is from The Guardian, available to read on the Guardian website.