Right to Life: The Brain Donor

Chapter 1 - Awakening.

“-ooks like he’s coming around.”, I heard a voice say. “Don’t try to move, you’ve been sedated for a while, and it’ll take time to regain your motor skills after the surgery.”

Wait? Surgery?

As if they had heard my thoughts, the man replied. I assumed it was a man. It sounded like one. The deep baritone timbre of his voice sounded like one. I couldn’t see though, and I couldn’t open my eyes.

“You were brought in after a car hit you. You were dying, and there wasn’t anything that could be done at the hospital you were at. You were airlifted to Rochester. You are at the Mayo Clinic. I’m Dr. Thompkins. We had to perform a radical new experimental surgery to save you. You have been in an induce coma since.” the Doctor stated.

I tried to talk, to open my eyes, to do anything. I couldn’t move. I could feel my body though, and it felt off. Not like it used to. The sensations I felt were strange. Not the me I was used to. I took a mental assessment. I could feel my toes, but couldn’t move them. I concentrated on my senses, I could feel feet, legs, working on up. I can’t sense my balls or my dick. I panicked at that. Were they damaged? Did they have to get removed?

“Doctor! Pulse and heart rate are up!”, I heard a woman say. Probably a nurse.

I heard the doctor sigh. “Thomas, try to calm down. Slow your breathing. I will explain everything.”

I took a deep breath, of the oxygen being provided through the tubes in my nose. I concentrated on calming down and not getting upset. I listened as the doctor spoke.

“Thomas, you might not remember the accident, but when you were brought in, you were close to death. We had to do an experimental transplant. Your body had been pulverized. You had multiple compound fractures, internal bleeding and impending failure of your organs. We performed a brain transplant. I’m sorry to say, you have an entirely different body, and are no longer recognizable as Thomas Kinkaid.”

I nearly panicked again, but I got my breathing under control.

“Thomas, please try to understand that we had no alternative. You were dying, and nothing short of this procedure could save you. As it is, it took a team of 8 surgeons and their support staff a day and a half for the transplant. You’ve been in a medically induced coma for the past month, in order to heal, and let the various nerve connections strengthen. Judging from your responses to our requests to calm down, I think it’s safe to say you can hear us. If we had a way to communicate, we could proceed.”, stated Dr. Thompkins.

I thought about that, and focused on moving, speaking, anything. With some effort, I did manage to slightly move my left index finger.

Apparently one of the nurses noticed. “Doctor, look!”, she said.

“Excellent Thomas, can you do it again?”, The doctor asked.

I wiggled the finger again. It was easier this time.

“Marvelous, simply marvelous!” Dr. Thompkins replied. “Due to the nature of the surgery, you will need to undergo physical therapy. You are trying to move muscles and bones and tissues that you’ve never had before, and use neural connections that are still being formed. We placed you in that coma to allow time to heal. You were in it over a month. Progress will be slow, but I am encouraged by your being able to move the finger.”

Over the next few days the doctor visited again, and he helped me with exercises to help me. Soon I was able to move my finger without much difficulty. I didn’t much like the sensitivity tests though, all the poking and prodding and “Can you feel this?” was getting to me.

I worked constantly on getting stronger, I worked tirelessly. And then the moment came. I had been awake for a month, and after all that time I opened my eyes.

I was greeted by light so bright it was painful. Everything was blurry. I closed my eyes, and waited. The sun was going down, and the room was filling with shadows. I opened my eyes again. I was still greeted by a blur, but it wasn’t intolerably bright. I worked feverishly on blinking and just keeping my eyes open.

The Next Day Dr. Thompkins came in and saw me trying to look around. I was sitting there with my eyes open, but I couldn’t move them.

“Thomas, try to follow my finger.”, He said. But nothing happened. All I could see was blurry light, and something dark moving around in front of me. My eyes couldn’t track it.

I felt the sense of wrongness again. I had felt it several times since I had awoken. When the nurses gave me sponge baths, when they moved me to change the bedding, and prevent bed sores, other occasions. I felt… too small on those occasions, and I was still troubled. I hadn’t been able to feel my dick at all since awakening. Not even so much as morning wood.

It felt strange when the nurses bathed me down there too, I could feel something, but not like before. When I was lifted up, I felt too small. I must be a small man now, because When they moved me, there was a very burly orderly that picked me up on my own. I had been 6’2”, and nearly 190Lbs. But now I could be hefted by one person.

“Thomas, tap your finger once for yes and two for no. Do you understand?”, The doctor asked.

* Tap *

“Okay, great. I’m going to shine a light in your eyes, I need to check your pupils. Don’t be alarmed. Do you understand?”, Dr. Thompkins explained.

* Tap *

“Pupils are dilated, but we can administer drops to help with that. Once we can get you seeing well enough we can figure out a more… interactive method of communication. I’ll stop in again later, but for now I’ll leave you to your sponge bath.”

oh joy…

I closed my eyes as I was carefully lifted off the bed. I could feel slight discomfort as my catheter and feeding tube were jostled, and my colostomy bag was changed out. Again the strange feeling hit me that something wasn’t right, especially the sensation concerning the catheter.

After the sponging, I was left alone with my thoughts. My mind drifted back to that night. It have been Pete’s birthday, and my friends and I took him out for drinks. What are friends for, right? You only turn 21 once. We shouldn’t have been out that night, but hindsight is 20/20, as they say. We all went our separate ways, I headed for the light rail station. I think they sought out another bar. I remember there was a screech, and then nothing until I woke up here.

Maybe it’s for the best I don’t remember? I don’t know. And what about the other guy? A brain transplant… that means someone else had to die… for me to get their body. What about him? I can’t stand to think that some other guy had to die for me to live. But really, am I thankful for it? I’m so confused.

I sat in the dark all night thinking about it. I had a second chance, so I guess it’s best to make the best of it I possibly can. So many worries hit me. What if this guy has a family history of cancer? What if he was an addict? I don’t feel any urges. Did I detox and not know it? How tall is he? Is he ugly? Is he fat or thin? I lay there thinking these thoughts, and not for the first time. When I closed my eyes, I could concentrate on my body, it still felt wrong. It felt strange.

My vision wasn’t clearing, everything was blurry. After more disappointing sessions with Dr. Thompkins, we had a breakthrough.

“Thomas, You seem to be blinking a lot. Is there something wrong with your eyes?”, he had asked.

* Tap *

“Hmmm, I’ll be right back.”, Dr. Thompkins responded. I could see blurry motion as he must have left the room. I heard the door close, and that confirmed it. After a few quiet minutes, I heard him return. The door opened, and I could see his blurry form towering over me, as I lay there. I felt a sensation, as something slid over my ears and onto the bridge of my nose, the blurriness was gone. Glasses. I was wearing glasses now.

“I’m sorry, I should have checked the notes we had on your donor more thoroughly. I’m sorry to say that you have very poor eyesight and need corrective lenses.”, he mentioned in a tone that seemed embarrassed.

I blinked and looked out at him. I could see! First thing I noticed was my nose. It was small and had a dainty tip. I looked down as best as I was able to, and that’s when the tears began. I could see my body reclined in the bed. It was tiny, so very tiny. Tiny and delicate. This was not a male body, not even a boy’s. I was looking down at the body of a young girl, not yet in puberty. The tears started flowing and my breathing was quick and I was hyper-ventilating. My finger was tapping on the mattress beside me furiously.

“I..I’m sorry. I was hoping to break this to you once things had progressed further. I realize I’m not very good at this bedside manner thing, but I didn’t mean to keep this from you.”, He rationalized.

I looked at him. He was short and fat, and balding. White hair was mixed in with his brown hair. He had on a labcoat and the cliché stethoscope around his neck. If I could move, I would likely leap over and strangle him.

I’m sure he could read some aspect of that in my eyes, because he started to stammer. “I… I… we had no choice. She, that is… the donor.. um, was brought in with a brain aneurysm. She was effectively brain-dead, and then when the hospital in Minneapolis called us, um well, we didn’t have an alternative. You know how hard it is to find someone who had brain death, but their body is otherwise fine? If it hadn’t been her, there would have been little alternative. The method we used to preserve the body and your brain was experimental. There was no guarantee we could have waited for another body to become available.”

I tried to tune him out, but it was nearly impossible. I was stuck as an invalid, I was stuck as a freak. I was stuck as a little girl. A blind as a bat little girl. God, I couldn’t be more than 12 at the most, from what I could see.

Oh god. What is going to happen to me? Mom and Dad are both gone, I have no relatives. Will they treat me like a kid, and stick me in some creepy foster home? Damn it, I’m a man! A MAN!! Fuck this… I started to panic even more. My breathing was fast, my heart was pounding.

Oh god! I’m going to have a heart attack, or a stroke. I’m going to die. I don’t want to die, but I don’t want to live like this. Help me someone, help me…

I felt involuntary tremors, my body shaking and pulse racing. If I could throw up, I would.

I was so scared and preoccupied that I didn’t even see the nurse enter, nor did I see her hand the syringe to him. I didn’t notice until I felt the pinch in my arm, and then mercifully, everything got dark.