The Donor Syndrome

by Thomas R. Willits

part 2 of 4

After an entire morning of tests, questions, poking and prodding, a cough here, a knee kick there, needles and skin tests, Doctor Rosenburg entered the room with the compatibility results. He sat in the stool and maneuvered it over to Renford who was now relaxing on the medical bed in the center.

Renford had dozed off a short while ago and awoke when the door shut. He pulled himself up and the paper underneath wrinkled, sounding like construction paper in a room full of second-graders. Renford could hardly wait for an answer.

“We’ve got back all the results,” the doctor stated matter-of-factly. “I’ll give you the rundown step by step so we both know where we’re at.”

“I see,” Renford said, disappointed. “Then I don’t meet your requirements. This is so I can be aware of my deficiencies and learn to live with them.”

“Mr. Upshaw-”

“I just wish I didn’t have to spend the entire morning going through what I had to endure. The questions, the shots, the skin tests... All for nothing.”

“Mis-ter Upshaw,” he reassured. “All your tests came back clean. Your X-rays are all in perfect order, besides a broken nose when you were about twenty-five, I’d say. You’re in perfect health. You’re a compatible donor.”

A compatible donor.

He smiled and Renford’s gaze turned to glass. He was shocked and not at all prepared for this kind of response. He had been ready to walk out humiliated and angry, and now, instead, he was thrilled. There was really no preparation for this kind of news and Renford didn’t know what to say.

“Determination breeds success,” he recalled his Number Four rule.

“I hadn’t really thought of it that way. But perhaps you’re right. You are here after all. I suppose you forgot you broke your nose. Most people don’t think about it when they fill out these forms, so don’t worry too much about it.”

I didn’t forget. How could I forget a thing like that?

They engaged in light conversation for the next few minutes and Doctor Rosenburg had several pamphlets for Renford to study as they talked. He read them each over carefully and listened closely to what he had to say.

Renford was partly unsure from the list he had been given and hadn’t the slightest idea on how to proceed. He realized this was a serious decision which he had to give careful consideration before making a final choice.

There hadn’t been a time in Renford’s life that had called for this much thinking and decision-making since the time he and his wife had picked out their new car. There were so many factors to consider and options to weigh in it made his head spin. Now, here at Donors, Inc. he felt that way again. And perhaps worse.

“There are seven donable organs,” Rosenburg went on. “The heart, two lungs, two kidneys, the pancreas and the liver. Of course nearly everything in the body is donable. Tissue, blood, cartilage, tendons, bones, as you’ve probably read in the pamphlets there. And they each vary in cost.”

“Yes,” Renford agreed. “I noticed. But which would I miss the least?”

“Hard to say for most people.” He took one of the pamphlets and opened it to something that looked like it belonged in a meat packing plant. “The liver, for instance has three lobes. If you donate one lobe, you can go on perfectly normal so long as you don’t drink heavily. In about five to ten years the liver will grow back its missing portion.”

“A-mazing,” Renford exclaimed. “I never knew that.”

He studied the chart and found the liver near the bottom of the list which he frowned upon noticing. He pointed it out to Rosenburg. “Not very pricey compared to some of the other items though.”

“We receive a steady supply of livers, and the demand is relatively low,” he explained. “I can see you’re being completely thorough about this and I don’t blame you. Understanding the rules and procedures is very important. I cannot stress that enough. Once the procedure is done we cannot reverse it.”

“I understand.”

They don’t accept refunds, he thought cynically. Or exchanges, for that matter.

Renford gave it careful consideration and checked one box near the middle, then handed the brochure back to Dr. Rosenburg. The doctor saw it and smiled. He laid the brochure back on his desk and stared directly at Renford, making sure he had his complete, undivided attention.

“Mr. Upshaw,” he began, “we have some papers to fill out and sign. It will likely take an hour or more. If you’d like to break for lunch or reschedule for another time we’d be more than happy to stipulate.”

Renford shook his head firmly. “That won’t be necessary. I’m ready now.”

In fact it took two hours to sign all the appropriate documents, both legal and confidential to his findings. It didn’t bother him one iota, as Renford would say. The staff read him his Patient Bill of Rights out loud as well as had him initial on every page. Other papers were signed with fine wording at the bottom of every document.

Then there came the contract, over twenty pages in all. He skimmed through it and signed in all the appropriate places. When he was done he simply smiled and asked when the procedure would begin.

“We can begin now,” Rosenburg told him. “You can be home in time for supper!”

Renford looked surprised at that, but understood the medical field had advanced so much it was hard to keep up with all their abilities. He felt hot on the inside, almost clammy on the out. And impatient. He couldn’t keep still; part of it was nerves, he admitted to himself. And another part might have been a rational need to get this operation over with. His hands grew sweaty and he held them crisscrossed together, linked like lovers. He stopped, suddenly, and stared at his hands.

They had done so much for him over his lifetime. They had literally taken care of him all his existence. He was a man driven by success and for a time shared it. He had been wealthy and had fallen into hard times. Now, once again driven by need or ambition, call it what you will, he was here, ready to do what was needed to provide. He glanced at his sweaty palms and the long lines in them and the creases under his knuckles.

Next, with his right hand he held it one last time and caressed it gently. He wondered if he’d miss it. He wondered what it would be like, that suddenly it would be gone.

I’m sorry, he thought to himself. This is for a very good cause.

“Let’s roll, Doctor,” he snapped without delay. “They say success is what you do with what you’ve got.” In fact it’s my number three rule.

Doctor Rosenburg’s eyes lit up as though he had suddenly discovered the lost city of Atlantis, and he laughed for a moment. He took Renford into a small room and had him wait while they prepped for surgery. They soon give him some medication to ease his nerves and he felt lighter than air.

The surgery lasted under two hours, as Rosenburg had promised, and when Renford came to he felt nauseated and confused. For nearly ten to fifteen seconds he had completely forgotten what he had done and where he was at. The feeling was both frightening and very uncomfortable.

Rosenburg’s face was the first he saw. He lowered the medical mask to his chin and offered a gentle smile.

“All went well, Mr. Upshaw,” he said in his pleasant bedside manner. “We encountered no difficulties. You should be ready to leave within the hour, after the medication wears off.”

Renford tried to move in his bed but couldn’t manage to do so. He was still drugged up quite heavily and found it nearly impossible just to rotate his head. “Then,” he began slowly, “it’s gone?”

The doctor nodded.

“Strange,” Renford continued. “I don’t even know it. I can’t feel anything. It’s like nothing happened.”

“Yes,” the doctor agreed. “It’s surprising to discover what the body can do without. You’ll need medication which we will provide. But you shouldn’t experience any abnormal discomfort. And the surgery went as well as I’d hoped. We had no unforeseen difficulties. You should recover to perfect health.”

Renford tried to swallow but his throat was dry. It felt almost closed off.

“That’s reassuring, Doctor,” he said hoarsely. “I could use a drink of water right about now.”

The doctor chuckled, “Yes, I imagine so. I’ll have one brought in right away.”

When the nurse came in he found he had enough strength to lift his left arm and so he reached for the water cup. His hand embraced the cup tenderly and he saw it for the first time. Wrapped in white gauze and medical tape was his remaining middle finger. It had been severed off at the second knuckle and all that remained was a stumpy nub.

He felt strange just staring at it. The absence of it was undeniably eerie. A subconscious itchy-feeling that may have been there since he awoke suddenly subdued him and he desperately wanted nothing more than to scratch at the stitching.

A steady, pulsating throb began to permeate through the pain medication, then instantly it started to spread into his metacarpals and on up his arm. He could even feel the sensation in his teeth and jaw. If he could simply call it something he would say it felt grisly. The pain was unequivocally grueling.

He sipped the water through the plastic straw and nearly choked.

“Slow down there, Mr. Upshaw,” Doctor Rosenburg informed. “You’ll have it all over your gown.”

“Itches like hell,” Renford croaked. “I didn’t feel it at first. But now...”

“It’ll pass in a few days. I’m afraid there’s nothing I can give you for that. But you’ll have plenty of pain medicine to keep it under control.”

Renford glanced up at Rosenburg sharply. “And the money should hit my account when?”

Rosenburg replied, “In a few hours. We’ve just sent the wire transfer.”

Renford let out a slow, relieved breath and took in another grateful one just as slow. “I’m still not sure I understand how everything is supposed to proceed,” Renford confessed. “This is supposed to pass off as a worker’s comp issue, which anyone would buy. I accidentally slice off my finger in the paper cutter in the supply room. I sue the company which explains the whereabouts of my ninety-five grand in my bank account. You have insurance companies pick up all the medical expenses. All that seems fine. Or at least I think it does. But how do I explain it to my family? Won’t they suspect something is odd?”

Rosenburg considered it but shook his head. “We’ve never had any issues before. You stick to the agreement and everything will work out as promised. There’s a part in this for you too as well. You must prove to be convincing. If your own family doesn’t believe you, who will/? But like you said, ‘determination breeds success’.”

Renford took another swig from his ice water and let it linger in his mouth. The flavor of it simply embellished him. He wanted to hold it there forever. He swallowed and asked Doctor Rosenburg the next most important question: “What will you do with my finger?”

* * *

Proceed to part 3...