The Borrowed Kidney
A fluorescent-washed pre-op consultation room at Johns Hopkins Hospital at 6:22 AM, where a compatibility report is still warm from the printer and two adjacent gurneys are separated by a curtain that doesn't fully close.
Double and Bust are both matches for a mutual friend who needs a kidney transplant by Thursday. The surgeon says she only needs one donor, but Double has volunteered them both — telling the surgical team they can pick whichever kidney looks better on the morning CT scan. The consent forms are already filled out in both names. Their friend is asleep in the next room, and the anesthesiologist is wheeling an IV cart toward them with the relaxed efficiency of someone who does this four times a week.
“One of us was gonna do it anyway, now we've doubled the odds they get the BEST kidney. Think of it like an organ audition — may the best bean win!”
“You signed a consent form with my name on it for the voluntary removal of an internal organ, and you're calling it an audition.”
The morning CT scan revealed that Bust's left kidney was, in the surgeon's words, 'textbook gorgeous,' while Double's looked like it had been through a fraternity hazing — slightly enlarged, mildly fatty, but technically functional. Bust went under, their friend got the perfect kidney, and the transplant was such a success that the surgical resident asked to photograph it for a teaching slide.
See? My system WORKED — we gave them a kidney so good it's going to be famous, and I still have both of mine!
I woke up with one kidney, a forged consent form in my medical record, and Double eating my recovery Jell-O.