Posted by Sawney Beane on September 21, 2006 at 00:01:10:
The Collected Works of Sawney Beane: Volume #69
ORGAN DONATION
by Sawney Beane
24 January 1999
(Idea 9 October 1997)
1,833 words
DISTRIBUTION NOTICE and DISCLAIMER: Sawney Beane requests that any distribution of this work of fiction remain within the realm of social responsibility. This story is suitable neither for minors nor for the seeming majority of adults who have difficulty distinguishing fantasy from reality. It is pure fantasy, which means that, for whatever reason, someone has found it interesting to think about the events depicted herein. It does not in any way mean that the author would like to see this fantasy become reality, so if you are the type of person who might be swayed into doing something irrational by reading a work of fiction, the author respectfully requests that you decline to read further.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Sawney Beane, originally a native of Edinburgh, lived for twenty-five years in a cave on the coast of County Galloway, subsisting on the flesh of unfortunate travellers, roughly a thousand of them all told. He and his wife raised a large family of eight sons, six daughters, eighteen grandsons, and fourteen granddaughters. Eventually, the family was captured, and the whole lot was brutally and unjustifiably tortured and executed without trial. Since his death in the early 17th century, Beane has reformed his ways and now confines his atrocities to his literary endeavours.
WARNING: This story contains discussion of socially-accepted snuff concerning a reluctant female victim. If you find such things offensive, please steer clear; you have been warned.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is one of those that took me a long time to get written down. I haven't seen this theme anywhere else, so I assume it is original.
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"You see, Miss Chambers," said the surgeon drifting into his best lecturing mode, "With the incredible advancements over the last twenty years or so in transplant medicine, it is really quite amazing how much we can recycle. In fact, almost ninety-eight percent of the human body can be re-used in helping improve and extend the lives of others."
"I do see all of that," replied the twenty-three year old blonde woman seated in the chair, which was dwarfed by the surgeon's massive walnut desk. "But the question I have is 'Why does it have to be me?'"
The surgeon looked down upon the girl with a benevolent smile. "Well, that's a perfectly natural thing to ask, but the short answer is, frankly, that it has to be someone. No matter who I interview for the role, this same question is bound to arise."
"That doesn't make me any happier."
"I understand your position, of course, and I acknowledge that the hospital is asking you to make a sacrifice. But I ask you to consider the good you will be doing for your fellow human beings. Your body will single-handedly save no less than forty-three lives. That's forty-three people who will die if we get sentimental and allow you to live. Do you think that your life is worth so much as those of the forty-three people that you could save? Are you that selfish?"
"No," Rachel Chambers replied in confusion, "but...."
"Let me tell you furthermore, that in addition to the forty-three lives you will save outright, there will be no fewer than two hundred and sixty-nine other lives that will be improved in some degree or other by your sacrifice. In light of all this, are we asking you to give all that much?"
"But it's all I have," replied Rachel sullenly.
"Yes, dear, I know, but you have to look at the big picture. Really you must."
"But why me particularly? Couldn't someone else save those lives?"
"Perhaps, but you have been chosen for many reasons. The most important is that your body contains all of the right donor types for all of the major organs. We've tested a lot of people, and it is very rare to find someone who is well suited to donate everything that we require.
"Another reason is that you are, if I may say so, an extremely attractive young woman. This may not seem like a good reason for sacrificing you, but consider the demands of plastic surgery. If we've got to take someone apart to harvest the organs and such needed to save the forty-three lives I mentioned, it makes sense, all things being equal, to pick someone with other body parts that are highly in demand. Next week someone is going to be very pleased to have your delicately-shaped nose as a new addition to her face. The same is true of your earlobes, cheeks, chin, lips, and forehead. Each is well-formed and highly in demand. Need I even mention your breasts? It goes without saying that your breasts will for quite an upgrade for someone who has had to live her life psychologically crippled by her small breasts."
"But I'm in perfect health! Wouldn't it be better to sacrifice someone who is already in need? Can't one of the forty-three save the other forty-two?"
"That's a very astute question, but the bodily donation process is facilitated by having a healthy body from which to draw in the first place. Someone with a heart ailment will not be as desirable a donor as you will be."
Rachel slumped in the chair, her arguments exhausted.
"Look," said the surgeon brightly, "I have to go on my rounds now, so why don't you come along and meet some of the people who will benefit from your sacrifice. Maybe that will help you to see the good you are doing."
Rachel did not like the idea one bit, but she followed the doctor out into the hallway and down to the intensive care wing. The first room they entered contained a young woman about eighteen years of age. She looked weak and somewhat pathetic in her hospital gown, but it was obvious that she had in happier times been quite an attractive teenager.
"Miss Chambers, this is Teresa. She is suffering from a rare degenerative heart disease, which means that we will have to replace her heart. You will save her life, and she will be able to go to college and lead a long happy life."
The girl said nothing but stared at Rachel with big dark sad eyes. Rachel was horrified by the sight and felt embarrassed by her reluctance to donate her body. She felt her heart, the one she would soon pass on to Teresa, skip a few beats. Rachel and the doctor moved on to the next room.
But the surgeon failed to quit while he was ahead. The next room contained an overweight man of about fifty years. A glass of vodka and some bottles occupied the table next to his bed. He talked on a mobile telephone while the surgeon explained to Rachel that this was the CEO of a major corporation and that he was in need of a new liver. They didn't stay long, and Rachel waited until they were in the corridor to ask the obvious questions.
"You're going to give my liver to an alcoholic?"
"If we don't, he will die. Do you think drinking alcohol is a capital crime?"
"No, but...."
"Then how can I let him die? I am not qualified to make such decisions."
Rachel closed her mouth and followed the doctor through to the next room, which gave her an even more frightening sight. The glass box in the middle of the room had a hole in one end through which the head of a twelve-year-old girl was extended. The rest of the child's body was inside the box, which was filled with a sort of viscous gel in which the small body floated. Rachel was horrified to observe that the majority of the girl's skin had been badly charred. The child moaned pitifully and did not observe their presence.
The surgeon consulted his clipboard and informed Rachel that this poor thing had been caught in a house fire and lingered on the edge of death. According to the surgeon's clipboard, the girl was scheduled to receive about sixty percent of Rachel's skin as well as much additional muscle and nerve tissue. Rachel's heart bled for this unfortunate thing. She left the room ready to sacrifice her life for the burn victim.
Once again, the surgeon blundered and led Rachel down the hallway to the plastic surgery department to visit a woman of about forty years. This woman had the airs of someone very rich and used to having people jump at her command. She looked as if she had once been quite a beauty, but her looks were fading, and she was obviously in a battle to salvage them for as long as possible.
"When am I going to get my surgery!" she immediately demanded of the surgeon. "I've been in the wretched place for almost a week!"
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Norman, but that is standard. We'll do it tomorrow evening for sure."
"That her?" the woman asked, indicating for the first time that she noticed Rachel's presence.
"Yes, Mrs. Norman."
The woman stared voraciously at Rachel's chest and the profile it presented through her white silk blouse. "I want to see them," she demanded.
The surgeon smiled awkwardly but asked Rachel to unbutton her blouse and bare her breasts, which Rachel did in a state of horrified powerlessness.
The patient made an appreciative noise upon seeing Rachel's large and shapely breasts. "They'll look good on me, I think!" she said rapturously.
Rachel covered herself back up and returned with the surgeon to his office. She was considerably less enthusiastic about her destiny after that last meeting.
"These are just a few of the people who you will be helping," the surgeon proclaimed as he sat back down behind his desk. "There are people who need new hands or feet or even whole limbs. Weak or broken bones can easily be replaced, and muscle and cartilage can be used to strengthen the tissues of people whose bodies have been weakened by disease or injury. Why, your reproductive system will make at least three barren women fertile again."
"You mean...."
"Your uterus will solve one woman's problems, while your ovaries will be implanted into two other women who need them. That means that you will have children even after you are gone!"
"I don't know if I like that."
"Why not? You will succeed in your life's procreative mission without most of the labour of living through a long life."
"I suppose so," she replied without enthusiasm.
"Soon a blind man will see through your eyes, and a deaf woman will hear with your eardrums! You know, we can even use your brain tissue! We can isolate and grow sections of brain tissue, which we can use to patch holes in the brains of people suffering from head trauma or tumours."
"Will I still think?" asked Rachel, not sure whether to be pleased or horrified.
"Not as such, dear, but there have been reports of patients who receive brain patches occasionally having memories that they do not recognize."
"Eerie."
"Perhaps, but it is an interesting phenomenon."
"Doctor, all of this is very interesting," said Rachel as politely as possible, "but the central issue for me is simply that I want to continue living. Why must I give up all that I have just to benefit strangers?"
"Let's face it, Miss Chambers, just how much have you really invested in this life of yours? You have no higher education, no husband, no children, not even a steady boyfriend. Plus, you have no identified artistic talents or unusual skills. You have relatively little to lose, and this is your best way to make a positive contribution to society. For anyone else who has invested in your life, such as your parents, half a million dollars will be deposited into your estate at midnight tonight. That should be compensation enough. That's really all I can do for you."
Rachel saw the futility of debating and gave up with a sad sigh. "Will it hurt much?"
"Not at all, Miss Chambers," replied the surgeon, "when you wake up tomorrow morning, you'll have to go through some pre-op preparations, but nothing you will find unpleasant. Then at around 11:00 tomorrow morning, you are scheduled to be anaesthetized. You'll simply go back to sleep. Then we'll harvest your body and you won't wake up."
"Sounds delightful," she murmured distractedly and a bit sarcastically.
"Take heart, Miss Chambers, by the end of the week, you will be a part of 312 people, each of whom will thank you for the life your sacrifice has made possible for them."