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.

Right to Life: The Brain Donor

Chapter 2 - Recovery.

I spaced out for the next few days. Orderlies came in and changed my bedding, nurses fixed my colostomy bags, and drained the catheter bag. I got sponge baths, and they manually manipulated my limbs, so my muscles wouldn’t tighten up and atrophy. All the while, I sat there in a fugue. Things happened, and I was aware of them. But I didn’t give them any thought, and I certainly didn’t respond to anyone.

I sat there feeling sorry for myself, when I heard a voice. I looked over to the doorway, and saw the blurry image of someone. I didn’t have the glasses on, and I couldn’t see them. I could tell that the person was coming closer. The individual reached over to the bedside and grabbed the glasses. I knew that because they were on me in a matter of seconds.

Standing in front of me was a woman. If I were still me, I’d be drooling over her. She was perhaps about 5’5” - 5’6”, with her long blonde hair braided into a long braid that fell down to about her mid-back. She had blue eyes, that were emphasized by the round glasses she wore. Her Doctor’s coat didn’t quite cover up the fact that she was very curvaceous and somewhat busty. She had on a crew-neck shirt under the coat. I could see that she had on a leather skirt and smokey hose.

“I’m Doctor Westerlain.”, she said in a melodious voice. “Doctor Thompkins thought that after your reaction to your new reality, that it might be best if someone else took over your rehabilitation… Someone that wasn’t involved previously.”

I looked at her. As I did, I could feel a tear roll down my cheek. Surprisingly, she reached into her coat pocket and produced a tissue, and wiped the tear away.

“I understand that things are rather traumatic for you. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like for me to wake up one day trapped in a new body, and certainly not one of the opposite gender.”, she said with a sympathetic smile. “But you have received a gift. You might not think it now, but it truly is. Without this surgery, you would be dead. You have the chance at a whole new life.”

I looked at her and tapped my finger repeatedly, tapping the two taps for “no” over and over.

She looked at me and gave me a smile. “There are worse things than being an 11 year old girl. I was one once. I survived it. And so can you. You can wallow in misery, or see it as a challenge. Your life isn’t over, it’s beginning a new chapter. You can go back to school, you can start a new life. Your possibilities are nearly endless.”

I sat there and took that in. She might be right about that, but still… I was a little girl. A crippled one, at that. Weak and helpless and blind as a bat.

Dr. Westerlain spoke up again, “I have an idea that will make things much easier for both of us. I will be right back.”

With that, she turned and left.

I sat and thought about my situation. Yes, I was an 11 year old girl, but I was alive. I don’t know if I’m okay with that, but as she said… I am alive. I couldn’t sigh too well due to my breathing tube, but I felt like doing so. It was then that the doctor returned. She had a bag slung over her shoulder, and she quickly wheeled over the table that sat in the corner. She opened up the bag, and pulled several things from it, and placed them on the table. She adjusted the table-arm, so that it fit over my lap. After that, she placed a small devise on it.

“This is a tablet that has been programmed to translate your finger taps from Morse code to English text.” She said, as she pulled something else from the bag. It was a stand that attached to the table. It had on it a copy of the alphabet, and the corresponding Morse code representations of each letter.

“With this, you should be able to communicate more effectively”, she said cheerfully. I tried the tablet, and it was frustrating, but after a while, I got the hang of it.

>Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity-fuck.<, I tapped.

She laughed and spoke. “Perfectly understandable, under the circumstances. Now that you can communicate, do you have any questions?”

I thought about it for a moment.

>What do I look like?<

She paused and looked me over before responding. “You are about 5 foot tall, maybe 85-90 Lbs, I’d estimate. A little on the thin side. Very pretty blue eyes. Your hair is just starting to grow back, but I would say it appears to be a dark brown, maybe black. Certainly very attractive for that age. Would you like to see?”, she asked cautiously.

>Yes<

She held up a hand mirror and I looked at it. I could see the face, If not for the bandages and breathing tubes and other apparatus attached, it might be cute. The nose was as dainty as I thought, based on my impression of seeing it from the corner of my vision. The eyes were big and wide open, expressing an innocence that the real me had lost long ago. I couldn’t tell much about my mouth, as the breathing tube covered it up. If I am to be stuck as a girl for the rest of my life though, it’s better to not be an ugly one, I guess?

“Now that we can communicate, I’m going to be honest with you. It will be tough. Physical therapy will be long and grueling. But If you put effort into it, you will be able to resume a normal life. The neurologists tell me that your nerves and muscles are in good shape, and there weren’t any issues with the surgery. So if you are willing to put in the work, you will be able to walk and talk and do everything that the average person can do.”, she said with a stern, but sincere tone.

Progress went slowly, but I was expecting that. It took me another month to get full use of my hands, but with that progress came the ability to type. I wasn’t exactly burning up the 45 WPM rate I used to be able to do, but could get by hunting and pecking.

Shortly after that Dr. Westerlain came with news. Based on my tests, I was strong enough to be taken of the ventilator, and be allowed to breath on my own now, with only an oxygen tube in my nose. Additionally, I could leave my room for short periods in a wheel chair to get fresh air. I was overjoyed, because I was understandably getting stir-crazy.

My first outing took me to the park across the street, it was late spring already, and it was warming up. I felt a little chill, as it was still slightly on the cool side. Dr. Westerlain carefully put a blanket over me, as I sat there and watched people come and go. There were children playing, and I watched as one little girl teased an older boy. They looked like siblings. I watched her having fun, and I realized that she was probably the same physical age as my body. She danced and spun around, joy evident on her face. I watched, and the tears came. After a little while of watching, I tapped at the tablet mounted to the arm of the chair.

>Take me back please<

We went back to my room, and after I was placed back in bed, I sat there thinking. I didn’t want to be a girl, but I wanted what that girl in the park had. Joy, laughter… life. I wanted my life back, even if it was not to be as ‘me’. For that, I would try to cope with my new reality.

A few more days passed. Dr. Westerlain... or as she recently advised me to call her… Heidi, was here and we were working on my conditioning. She would push against my hands and I had to try to push back. I was making slow progress. I was able to move my forearms a little,

“I was thinking”, she said. “Things are going well with your physical therapy. There is something else that needs working on though… something that might be more difficult. Have you given any thought to your future?”

I sighed, and swallowed. I knew that eventually I would have to face this. Since the procedure had been experimental, my healthcare and stay were being picked up by the hospital, various research groups, charities, and foundations. When I would be “healthy” enough to leave, I had nothing really to return to. I had no family, and since I had likely been declared dead, my full-ride scholarship and housing at the University were gone. I think that Heidi noticed my fear, because my hands were shaking.

She took them and held them and reassured me. “Don’t worry, we won’t just throw you out on the street when you are fit enough to leave. We will find a place for you, and methods of support. What I was referring to is your future. After all, a young girl named Thomas would draw attention. We can work on that, but I thought it might suit you to think about it now.”

After Heidi left, I sat there thinking about it. Who am I? Who was I? Who was she? There were so many things I didn’t know, and so many questions left unanswered.

The next day came, and I had questions. Many questions. Heidi was working on my legs, massaging the muscles and flexing and bending my knees. I typed a message for her, and then tapped on the talbe to get her attention.

>Who was she?<

Heidi looked at me, not quite following. I sighed.

>The body. Who was she?< I asked again.

Heidi sighed herself, and stopped working on my muscles for a moment. She moved over beside me, and sat down in a chair at bedside. “I wish I could tell you something. But due to legal reasons and privacy issues all that information has been sealed. I don’t have any access to the donor’s personal information. All they provided to us doctors is medical history. I can tell you that whoever she was, she died of a sudden brain aneurysm. It was most likely over pretty quickly, I doubt she would have suffered.”

I breathed out slowly. I suppose there is some solace in that, that she didn’t suffer. I felt guilty though. Having her body. Whoever she is, I hope she can find some peace. I shed a tear and said a silent prayer for her.

Heidi noticed my mood, and decided I needed some time to myself. I was grateful to her, and I sat in the darkness, musing on life and death. The enormity of it all was getting to me. Why was I saved? I looked down at my hands, gazing over my body, my flat chest, the shape of my legs as they lay covered by my bed sheet. Surely this girl was more deserving. But now I am this girl. There is no more me, there is no more her. We are both but ghosts… only I am cursed to walk the Earth, remembering what I once had. Maybe she was the fortunate one? I had no answers, and the fates would supply none.

I laughed, as a stray thought floated through my mind. John Lennon once said “Life is what happens when you are busy making other plans.”

No truer words were spoken. I had a new life, and no plans. I knew no future for myself. I had no name, no identity, no purpose. Just a person who should not be.

Right to Life: The Brain Donor

Chapter 3 - Progress.

After another couple months, my progress had reached the point where I was moved out of the hospital, and to a rehabilitation and recovery house. I could type now, not like 60WPM, or anything, but well enough that I could use a computer with speech software to communicate. My upper body was getting stronger. I could lift myself into a wheel chair, and into bed… Although both were rather difficult to do. The plus side of that though was that I no longer needed the colostomy bag and the catheter. I was on soft foods, and feeling stronger. I was still trying to adjust. Peeing sitting down was a difficult thing for me to master, at first.

I sat on the couch, my wheelchair next to it. Heidi was coming over soon for my physical therapy. Speech therapy was difficult, I could make noises, but I was nowhere near being able to talk. A typical session would be me laying down on the floor, as Heidi worked with my legs, stretching them and bending them. It wouldn’t help me at all if the muscles tightened or atrophied. As she manipulated my legs, I ran through a vocal exercise meant to keep my vocal cords limber.

With time left in our session, we headed out to the park. Sometimes Heidi would push my chair, but more and more she made me wheel myself. It was sunny and warm, as August had just arrived. I had on a light tee, and to my dismay, a training bra. I hadn’t started puberty, but Heidi thought that it was a good idea to get me accustomed to wearing one. The very thought of what faced me scared the ever living crap out of me. To think that in a year, maybe two, I’d have tits starting, and I’d be bleeding out of an opening I shouldn’t have. That caused me some night terrors. In addition to my physical therapy, they had me attending regular meetings with a psychiatrist. I accepted that I was given a second chance, but the fact that I was having to live as a pre-teen girl was still causing me emotional issues.

I often woke up crying, and these new emotions were more intense. The doctors explained that since I had a female body now, my hormone levels were those of a girl, and I could expect to feel things in a stronger way.

After wheeling myself around the park a couple times, I was tired. These little girl arms weren’t all that muscular, and even though I didn’t weigh much, the effort exhausted me. Heidi took me home, and we concentrated on sensory observation. I would close my eyes, and she would gently poke a toe, or my arch. Sometimes she would hit my knee with a reflex hammer. After therapy, she took me into the bathroom and helped me with a bath. It was relaxing, and I had to admit, I was getting used to baths. As a guy, I had been more of a quick shower sort. Get in, get done, get out. But there was something relaxing and peaceful about a long soak in the tub, I really couldn’t explain it.

October came, and saw me able to walk with crutches. Admittedly, not for very long, or for very far. Still, it was progress. My speech therapy was also progressing. I was able to speak a little, though I sounded like someone with cerebral palsy, and speaking was hard. I had to be slow and deliberate, or I would be totally unintelligible. Still, all things being equal it was better than being dead.

I did get a rather unexpected surprise. It was Halloween, and I hadn’t been expecting anything. I sat in my room, the on-call nurse had just been by with my medications. There was a knock on the door, and it was Heidi. She wasn’t expected, but she came.
With a twinkle in her eye, and minimal explanation, I found myself in a makeshift Halloween costume. My chair was done up like one of those Dr. Who aliens, the Daleks. With my costume on, I was ushered into a van and taken to the children’s ward back at the hospital. A wonderful time was had. I joined the children as movies were shown, and candy given out. I had to stick to the softer candies, of course. Still it was an awesome time.

After the party, I sat in the dark and thought long and hard. Heidi had gone as a sexy witch. Her cleavage was visible, but still acceptable. The short dress accented her legs. If I had been the old me, I would have had my own ‘magic wand’ rather prominent. But as it is, nothing. I had thought about this on occasion, but now it was really hammered home. I had lost my sex drive and had to wonder. Would I get it back? Would I be a straight girl? Would I become a lesbian? The thought of some dude sticking his dick in me did nothing for me but give me a nauseous feeling. I sighed and re-focused on the party.

Thanksgiving came and went, with nobody to celebrate with. I sat in my room and watched football alone. By then though I was more mobile. I was walking on my own, needing just a cane. My speech was coming along too, I was mostly understandable, although I had a heavy lisp. Heidi and I were working on my expected transition out of the therapy house, prioritizing my language skills and working on writing. Although I had use of my hands, my penmanship was terrible. I had tremors that caused my hands to shake, meaning my writing was very sloppy.

Christmas saw me invited home by Heidi. We sat in her apartment and enjoyed a modest meal that she had cooked herself. Apparently she had no close family or friends, and usually worked on the Holidays. After dinner, we sat on the couch together and listened to carols. It was different, but nice. I was due to be released just after New Years, but there were complications. Legally, I was a nobody. I had no assets, no home, no name. I was a non-person in the eyes of the law. Worse yet, I was a minor AND a non-entity, from a legal standpoint.

I sat in the darkness of my room, it was the day after Christmas. I was walking, talking doing everything expected. I couldn’t run, and I was still having some slight troubles with speaking and writing, but I was okay. I got up and walked to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, I saw that same face. The petite girl with the black hair and the sparkling blue eyes. Me. That was me now. A me that didn’t exist to the world.

I knew that the original plan had been for me to quietly be set up in an apartment that was paid for by the Hospital and several other organizations, but apparently that plan had been nixed by the lawyers. Of course it was the lawyers. Probably the same reason that there hadn’t been any news conferences to show me off and to talk about the operation. I couldn’t see somewhere as prestigious as the Mayo Clinic doing something shady and underhanded, but surely there was a reason for all the hush-hush, sweeping under the carpet of the whole affair.

I was resolved to ask Heidi when I saw her next, but other thoughts loomed large. I was out of here in a matter of days. To be thrown out into the Minnesota winter was all but a death sentence. I had less than a week to figure something out.

The day came, and I was out the door. All I had was a sweatsuit and some old sneakers. This was it. It was cold. There was snow falling, and the wind was howling. I walked slowly out the door, facing my second brush with cold and death. I was resigned to my fate, when suddenly I felt a tug on my sweatshirt.

I turned around and was face to face with Heidi. She handed me a key, and told me a cab was on its way. I stood there stunned.

“Whath going on?” I asked, my lisp coming out as I stood there tearing up.

Heidi looked at me and smiled. “You are going to my apartment. I won’t abandon you to the streets.”

I cried and bit at my lower lip as the cab pulled up. Heidi helped me into the back seat and handed me money to pay for the cab. She went over to the driver’s window and gave the address, and I was off.

I sat in the apartment, in a daze. It seemed like hours until Heidi came home. I heard her keys jangle as she came in.

“Thomas? You in here?”, she called. I looked up from the couch and waved her over. We sat there in silence for what seemed like hours, but was probably only a few minutes.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words could come out. Heidi spoke instead. “I know things are tough, but I’m not going to abandon you. I could never do that. I’m off tomorrow, and I’m going to call a friend of mine. She’s a lawyer. We will figure out how to help you.”

I slept in Heidi’s bed that night. She took the couch. I had offered to take the couch, but she had refused rather adamantly. I fell asleep quickly that night, surrounded by warmth and optimism.

I sat on the couch in an over-sized tee that draped like a dress on my small frame. I finished my cheerios and turned suddenly at the knocking on the door. Heidi bolted up and ran over, peering through the keyhole. With a relieved sigh, she undid the chain bolt and opened the door.

A tall woman entered, perhaps close to 6 foot. She was wearing a black trench coat and fedora, and carried a briefcase. There was a large bag slung over her shoulder. She put her bag and briefcase down and leaned in and kissed Heidi on the cheek. There was an intimacy and closeness there that I picked up on right away.

Heidi turned toward me and nodded her head at me. “Thomas, meet Rebecca Erikson. Becca, this is Thomas.”

Rebecca looked me over and nodded. “Hello, Heidi told me all about you, and I did some digging. Unfortunately any assets you had have been liquidated, and the money was donated to charity. As for legal status, that’s another sticky wicket. Officially, you are dead. Thomas Kinkaid died that night in the operating room. Furthermore, the records of your body’s identity have been sealed by a judge, and she also is legally dead.”

I sighed and slumped over. “Tho thath’s it. I’m a nobody, and I’m doomed.”

Rebecca looked at me sympathetically, “There is still an option, though you might not want to hear it.”

“I’m lithening”, I said.

“We do have your redacted medical history. With that, we can legally generate a new identity for you, but obviously it would be as a female minor.”, Rebecca said looking at me.

“Meaning I’d be thtuck in the juvenile thysthtem.”, I said with tears starting to form.

Heidi came over and wrapped her arm around my shoulders and drew me into a hug. “Not if someone were to legally adopt you. Of course, you would be considered a minor, so that person would need to assume total guardianship over you and make sure you are provided for. Make sure you go to school, and take care of your emotional and physical well-being. Since I’ve been doing that already, why not make it permanent?”

I looked at her and hugged her tightly. “You would do that for me?” I said, tears still flowing. Ugh… these damn girl hormones.

Right to Life: The Brain Donor
By Rosalie Redd.

Chapter 4 - Lawyers suck… ( at least some do)

A couple days had passed, and I was doing resistance training with Heidi. She placed her feet against mine, as we sat on the floor. She would push with hers, and expected me to push back. Over on the sofa, sat Becca. She had on some jeans with a hole in one knee, and a University of Minnesota hoodie.

“I’m thorry, I don’t underthtand”, I said in regards to the statement she had made.

“As I was saying, I tried to contact the staff responsible for your operation, but all I got was the run-around. They are bound by an NDA to not discuss the surgery or any aspects of your case. The contract stipulates that they can’t release any information until or unless the Mayo Clinic itself publicly announces the surgery. To violate that contract would cost the parties involved tens of thousands of dollars, each.”

Heidi sighed. “Yes, when I was brought in to take care of your rehabilitation, I had to sign a non-disclosure agreement. But Thomas, you already know everything I do.”

Becca twirled a pencil in her fingers, absent-mindedly. “It’s clear that they have something to hide, the operation was a success… so it’s not likely anything concerning Thomas.”

Heidi looked at me, and then grew silent, then spoke. “I might be able to figure out what’s going on, but whether the person I need to talk to will help, that’s the uncertain part.”

With the somber discussion finished for now, we continued my workout, and then had a light meal.

The next day when Heidi returned home from work, She dashed to take a shower and then called Becca. There was a whispered conversation, and then Heidi hung up.

“I found out the situation, but I would prefer for us to wait for Becca to arrive.”, she told me plainly.

When my sultry lawyer arrived, she let herself in with her key. I smiled at the fact they were so oblivious to the fact I had noticed. Sometimes I think they forget I was a 26 year old college student, as it’s so easy to see the little girl. Hmm… maybe I should become a spy, nobody would suspect the little girl… I chuckled to myself at that joke.

Becca took off her trench coat and sat down, her long legs crossed in such a way that she seemed oblivious to the raw sexual image she appeared

I glanced at Heidi, who obviously noticed. Heidi blushed and then spoke. “I spoke to Dr. Thompkins today. He’s always had a lecherous eye towards me, and I… might have used some feminine charms to help get some information from him.”

Becca nodded and laughed. “These feminine charms wouldn’t happen to include that black mini-skirt and red v-neck shirt that I like, would they?”

I watched Heidi blush. “Maybe… anyhow, I found out something important. It seems that the panic is related to the donor girl’s parents. They had consented for her organs to be donated, but not her whole body. The lawyers are in a panic, because they realize that if they find out about Thomas, here… there will be all sorts of negative press and litigation that they cant afford.”

I sighed as I sat there on the floor. My continued existence was a legal oversight. “I feel thorry for that poor girth’s parenth. They were lied to! They were mithled… and I’m the rethult!”, I screamed.

I pulled my knees to my chest and broke down in tears. Heidi and Becca rushed over and hugged me as I sat there crying. Old me would have been in Heaven to have two hot women hug me into their chests, but new me was way too emotionally wrecked and hormonally lacking.

Heidi and Becca picked me up and carried me to bed, I felt their presences and I cried myself to sleep.

Dreams and nightmares didn’t come. I would have almost preferred nightmares to nothing. Anything to show I still could feel.

Waking up the next morning, I dragged myself out of bed. Stumbling to the shower, I slipped off my nightshirt and started the water. I had gotten strong enough that Heidi no longer worried about me bathing unsupervised. As the water cascaded down my body, I closed my eyes and felt it. I had been this girl for nearly a year now, and she was still so alien to me.

After I got out of the shower, I went into what was now ‘my room’ again. Heidi had filled the closets and dresser drawers with clothing that fit, but was as gender-neutral as possible. Obviously there was no escaping from the fact I needed panties, and tighty-whiteys were no longer an option, but the jeans, sweats, shirts, tees were all decidedly in gender neutral styles and colors.

Officially, with the hospital dis-avowing all information on my operation, Heidi was no longer getting paid to take care of me. Because of this, she returned to the general rehabilitation facilities, taking care of other patients. Knowing I had little to do during the day, she set up a regimen for me. I couldn’t go out alone. As a non-entity, if I disappeared, there were no records for me. Fingerprints and dental records would come back as belonging to a girl that had died last winter. That is, if those records still even existed. So I diligently kept up with the rehab tasks she left me, and when I finished those, I skimmed the internet, looking for information on the death of me and well, the her that was sort of me now.

Becca was working on the case unofficially, in her off-hours. She had to keep at her day job, after all. Not like I could afford to pay her. Still we dug and dug and dug, not hitting the proverbial oil. I went over my medical ‘history’, such as it were. Broken arm, age 6. Chicken Pox, age 3. every official illness was listed. Hmm… official, as in seen by a doctor. I wondered about this girl, the sprains, bumps, bruises. Things not considered important enough to see a doctor for. Was she hurt often? Was she an adventurous tomboy, or a careful princess? Had she had brothers? Sisters? A pet?

Just who was this person that I was inhabiting?

Spring came, and with it, the decisions mounted. I had finished rehab. It had taken over a year, but I was well enough to do all the things a girl my physical age could do. My lisp was largely gone, and I could walk and run and write and there was no hint anything had ever been wrong, save for the scar that circled my head, just under my hairline.
I sat in the park with Becca, Heidi was working overtime. We watched the children playing on the swings and running around. I sighed.

“Hey kiddo, you okay?”, Becca asked. I still hadn’t picked a name. Not after all this time. We had decided that officially my birthday would be March 1st. I don’t know if I was procrastinating on the name because it would be the final nail in the coffin of my identity, but I just couldn’t do it.

“Yeah, Becca, I’m okay. I just don’t know where to go from here. I have no records, so I can’t go back to college. I think I’d die inside if I had to go back to grade school. I just… I don’t know what to do.”

Becca hugged me. “You know, Heidi and I both love you. Regardless of who you were or are now. Can you keep a secret?”, She asked.

I nodded, and spoke. “Of course I can.”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a box. “Next week is our 2 year anniversary, hers and mine. I’m going to take her out and ask her to marry me.”

I hugged her. “I’m so happy for you both!”, I said with a smile.

Becca looked down at me. “You know, if we do get married, we could formally set up an identity for you and adopt you.” She smiled as she said that.

I hugged her tighter. “I think I’d like that.”, I chirped happily. We sat there for a while. I noticed as I looked around, that there was a woman that kept looking over at me. She was across the park from us, maybe 60-70 meters away. She stared and stared. I thought it was about Becca, as she was a definite hottie.

I leaned closer and whispered to Becca. “You see that woman over there? The one in the white coat, over by the jungle gym? She keeps looking over here.”

Becca stood up and looked directly at her. The woman dropped her gaze down to the ground.

“I think we better leave. Now.” She said with an urgency I shared.

Becca took my arm and started to run. I followed along as quickly as I could, my shorter legs being something of a hindrance. Getting to her car, we saw no sign of the woman following us. Still, we turned several times and took back alleys and backtracked over our path several times before heading to a destination. Instead of Heidi’s place, we headed to Becca’s loft.

We ducked into the building, and headed up to the loft. I had never been there before, so I looked around. In contrast to Heidi’s neat and tidy space, Becca’s place was a pigsty. There were several empty pizza boxes, a bra was hanging over the back of a chair. I shook my head and sat down on a section of couch that wasn’t covered in legal papers.

After a few hours watching some movie about a socialite who was brain transplanted into an average housewife.* We ended up laughing because of how campy and ridiculous it was. Eventually we decided it was safe to take me back.
We got no further than the lobby, when the woman ran up. She knocked Becca down and grabbed me.

“Cindy! It is you! They told me you were gone. They said your organs had been donated. I knew it wasn’t true!”, she said in a clearly manic way.

Becca got up and called over to the front desk. A couple security guards soon came.

“This woman has assaulted me, and is trying to forceably take my client here.”, she said as she indicated me. “I want her removed from the building and charged with trespassing. She is not to be allowed back in, and I will get a restraining order, if I have to!”

The woman was led off, still screaming back at me. “My baby! You can’t have my baby! She’s mine! You hear me? MINE!”

After the emotional turmoil, I felt tired. Becca ushered me into her car and drove me back to Heidi’s. I was asleep by then, and she carried me upstairs.

I stirred as she placed me gently on the couch. I listened to her pacing. Pretending to be asleep still, I eavesdropped as she called Heidi.

“Hello my love. I think today we had a breakthrough in the matter with Thomas, but I’m not so sure it’s positive. We were at the park, and I think we ran into the donor’s mother. She followed me from the park. No, I made sure to go to my place. No, she has no idea about you, or where Thomas is. Still, I fear this could go south very quickly. I had her barred from the building, but anyone could dig into who lives there and come up with my name. It might be best, if at least for a while, that you and I not see each other. I know. I hate the thought of it too, but if we are to protect her, we have to do this. I love you.” With that, she hung up.

I wanted to get up to comfort her. To tell her that she didn’t have to do that...but I was a coward. I sat there pretending to still be sleeping. I heard the door close as she left, and the tears started to stream down my face.

* ‘Who is Julia?’ - a 1986 TV movie, starring Mare Winningham.

Right to Life: The Brain Donor

Chapter 5 - Who’s a pretty, pretty princess?

Heidi and Becca ended up breaking their leases, and moving in together. That meant, of course, that I came along. I was tired, both emotionally and physically. Emotionally from all the upheaval and drama. Physically from the therapy. While I was pretty much recovered, I was still encouraged to explore my limits and learn the boundaries of my new body.

I was out for a jog with Heidi, complaining about the red wig and sunglasses I was forced to wear. For her part Heidi had on sunglasses as well as a Baseball cap. I was getting into better shape, my body losing some of the fat that had accumulated and I was feeling fit. My little frame was filling out. Not like super muscular, but trim and in shape.

We reached home and Becca was waiting for us.

“I have some news. The Board has come around, they wish to meet with us. I informed them that the mother contacted us, and that she told us about ‘Cindy’, while we haven’t followed up on that, they know that I am not under the confidentiality agreement, not is Thomas.”, Becca stated.

I nodded my head. I didn’t want to know anything more about Cindy. After I had heard that name weeks ago, I had nightmares. Having a name made her more real somehow. She was no longer just the donor. She was a real little girl that had died. A girl that should have this body. If the Mayo Clinic board wanted to meet with us, they were afraid that I would expose them. This gave me freedom, in a way. I could leverage this into a new life. I’m a non-entity, as both myself and Cindy were dead. I didn’t want to reveal myself as Cindy, but if the clinic gave me options, damn it, I would take them.

Becca, Heidi, and I sat for a while and planned. After some calls, a meeting was arranged hastily.

Three days later we sat in the office of the Board of the Mayo Clinic. I looked down at the black flats I had on, shiny, with a strap across the front and silver buckle. The white tights and black skirt were paired off with a white blouse with silver buttons and a rounded collar. I kicked my feet like a kid in a too-high chair. The lawyers were late, no doubt trying to make us sweat it out, and make some sort of psychological point.

The lawyers and doctors walked in and sat down, looking at us across the table. Looking squarely at me, the Lead attorney greeted us.

“Ladies”, he said in a smug tone.

I frowned and leaned forward, but sat back when I felt Heidi’s arm across my stomach. Becca sat there, looking at the lawyers, her own expensive outfit showing that she was not to be trifled with.

“Gentlemen, I called for this meeting, because a… situation has arisen that you would be advised to cooperate with us concerning. Recently, it has come to our attention that the family of the minor girl whose body was used in Mr. Kinkaid’s surgery was not informed of the intended use of the body. Now due to Miss Westerlain’s non-disclosure agreement, she is prohibited from telling anyone about the surgery. Mr. Kinkaid and myself… not so much, actually. Now It would be a shame if the story of how a grieving mother had discovered that the body of her precious daughter was misused, and had not been cremated, but had actually been used without her consent in a medical experiment.”

The Head of the board, a large, imposing man of about 50 stood up. He was muscular, but also balding and carrying some extra weight around the midsection. A sure sign of his love for good food.

“What exactly are you getting at, Miss. Erikson?”, the man asked in a cautious manner.

“My client and I will agree to not disclose his situation to the family, or the media… In exchange for testimony in court about my client’s legal status. We will petition the court for the records to be sealed. All we want is to Establish a new legal identity for Mr. Kinkaid. Additionally, all medical aid and assistance will be continued, and a trust established for my client to receive upon their legal reaching of 21 years of age physically, based upon the age of their current body. I highly suggest that you take this offer, as I’m sure the family of the little girl would demand a far more expensive settlement, and public acknowledgment of wrong doing. What you accomplished was a good thing, and my client’s life was saved because of it. I don’t want the doctors that performed this miracle to lose their licenses to practice medicine.” Becca finished her statement, and pushed a stack of papers over to the lead attorney.

He was definitely flustered. “May we have a moment to discuss this offer, in private?”, he asked.

Becca nodded and we walked out into the hallway, where I sat down on a convenient bench. Becca and Heidi bent down and hugged me. I squirmed uncomfortably, and they realized their mistake and let go.

“Sorry, that was insensitive of us.”, Heidi apologized. “If this goes through though, there may be complications though. Complications to your daily life.”

I cast my gaze down. “I know. To the rest of the world, I’m going to be a 13 year old girl. You will probably have to put up with me living with you or something, being in the way. It’s not fair.”

Heidi sighed and hugged me. “I know it’s not ideal, but it’s the best we can do. There is a lot that will be needed to be sorted out, and would you rather we were there to help, or some strangers?”

“You, of course”, I said.

****

In the end Becca negotiated a nice settlement, with a cash pay-out, medical care for life, and a trust set up for when I reached an appropriate physical age to go to college again.

Additionally, the clinic would provide assistance in setting up my identity. Becca had explained that it was in the institution’s best interest to quietly assist me, rather than go through an expensive court case that could pay out far more, and would certainly tarnish the reputation of the facility.

Thus it was that only a week later we were in court. I sat in the chair next to Becca, fidgeting with the hem of my skirt. The courtroom was clear, save for myself, Becca, Heidi, the court reporter, a bailiff, and another lawyer.

I looked up at the bench, as the judge cam out from chambers. She was a rather tall black woman, approximately 50 or so, with glasses, and her hair back in a bun. She took her place on the bench and conversed with the court reporter for a moment before addressing us all.

“Usually I like to know what I’m dealing with in greater detail. I am intrigued that someone with enough pull managed to get the senior circuit judge to call for a closed court hearing on a… what? Legal name change?” The judge asked, perplexed.

“Your honor, Rebecca Erickson, representing the petitioner. I apologize for the cloak and dagger routine, it was not our intent to spring this on you. I fear that the theatrics were at the behest of my colleague here.”, Becca stated, motioning to the other attorney present.

The other lawyer stood up. He was a tall, slender man of perhaps 60 or so, standing easily 6’4”- 6’5”, with gray hair and a fancy Italian suit. “Your honor, Wentworth Hightower, representing the interests of the Mayo Clinic. This amount of secrecy was necessary due to some potentially… revolutionary medical advances that took place in this case.”, the counselor stated in a dispassionate tone.

Becca continued. “In addition, there is the matter of my client’s privacy if the information we are about to reveal were to become public.”

The Judge looked at them both, with an arched eyebrow. “Very well, I will keep the records sealed for now, but this had better be good.”, she said.

Over the course of the next four hours evidence was introduced as to my past identity. Death certificates were provided for myself and Cindy, whom I learned was named Cynthia Marie Holmes, as well as confirmations of her donor status. While I thought the way the forms were worded seemed a bit shady, I kept my mouth shut. Eventually I was brought up to the witness stand and was sworn in.

Becca stood in front of me. “We have heard and read the documents submitted into evidence as far as your past identity as Thomas Kinkaid, as well as the information concerning Miss Holmes’ unfortunate brain aneurysm. Unfortunately as Miss Holmes was declared brain-dead, and your body was declared as dead, there is no legal president for your current legal status. What do you wish from the court today, Miss Doe?”

I sighed at the name she called me, for legal reasons. The case was petitioned under the name ‘Jane Doe’, and then I pleaded my case. “Your honor, I realize that this whole thing is a bit unusual. I only wish to get on with my life. I know that things will never be the same. I’m not a 24 year old man anymore. And while I don’t really wish to be stuck as a 13 year old girl, this is the hand I was dealt. I honestly don’t know where to go from here. I mean who would hire me looking like this? Who would take a 13 year old girl seriously in college? Miss Erickson and Miss Westerlain have cared for me like a member of their family.”

The Judge reviewed all the information, and then went back to her chambers.

After an hour, in which I mostly sat and chewed my fingernails down to practically nothing, the bailiff called us back into the courtroom. We were seated as the Judge entered and returned to the bench.

“I have reviewed all the information. Considering the sensitive nature of the information, and the privacy concerns involved, I will grant the petition for legal status determination. I have seen enough evidence that the girl in front of me is the man formerly known as Thomas Kinkaid. However, considering the welfare of the petitioner, I can not in good conscience release her out into the world without a support system. My ruling is that I will grant the petition on the condition that Miss Westerlain formally adopt you as her legal daughter. Miss Westerlain, is this agreeable with you?”

Heidi stood up and smoothed her skirt, looking at the judge, she spoke up. “Your honor, I will gladly accept these terms, and I will provide the best care and support I can to her, teaching her everything she needs to know and I will care for her as if she were my own child. I have gotten very close to Thomas during his… her rehab, and I will protect her with all my strength.”

The judge smiled and looked at me. “Miss Doe, are these terms agreeable with you?”

I nodded enthusiastically. “Your honor, I could not think of any better situation.”

Looking back at me, the judge asked the all-important question. “What name should I apply to the official record, in so far as your legal papers?”

I looked back at Becca and Heidi. “I think I would like my new mother to pick.”, I said with a smile.

Heidi put her arm around my shoulder, as she stood beside me. “I think that I like the name Thomassina Alicia Westerlain, or Tomi for short”.

I felt tears as I acknowledged her not only giving me her last name, but the decision to keep my old name, as something I could cling to.

The Judge talked to Becca and Mr. Hightower about the sealing of the records, and legalities pertaining to Social Security, birth records, and other things. I didn’t hear word one. I was so elated to just be recognized again. That stuff could wait, as far as I was concerned. I was a person again.