I Might Not Even Pick Up
When I was a kid, my mom was a pretty awful parent to me and my siblings. Resentful, a bit of a tormentor, never hugged any of us, and mainly told us how we ruined her life. You get the picture. I moved out at 17 to keep my sanity.
I’m 28 now and never had much of a relationship with her after moving out, as she never once admitted that she had done some really messed up things to us. My sister is married and has two kids, my brother is divorced with three kids. I got a call that nearly ruined my life.
It was the hospital, and they said that my mom managed to drink her liver out of order and needed a transplant. All of us siblings were found to be a match. My sister and brother, once they realized that cutting out a part of your liver isn’t risk-free, backed out. But that wasn’t the end.
I was told that I have something called situs inversus, meaning my organs are abnormally placed, and that it would make the risk of surgery even higher for me. 4% risk of fatality within two weeks of surgery, and a higher risk of other awful things happening.
And of course, a 100% guarantee that my mother will drink that liver away anyway, too. What happened afterward chilled me to the bone. At that point, EVERYONE—the doctor, my mom, my siblings, everyone—is telling me I should do it. Why? Because I don’t have kids, so who cares if the risk is high.
My family never valued my lifestyle, as I decided not to do their life script. I bought a cabin in the wilderness in the north and work from home, so I rarely have to leave my lovely little hideaway.
I make enough money to live the life I always dreamed of, but apparently, that doesn’t count since I don’t want kids. And my mom, who never cared if I lived or not, suddenly thinks she deserves my liver because she gave birth to me. Screw them all.
The doctor said to me “Well, it is an increased risk, but your mother needs a new liver and at least you don’t risk leaving children behind.” I was so stunned. I can’t believe I even tried, that I agreed to be tested as a donor, as if she would have magically changed and I would want to risk my health for her.
I’m leaving the city tonight, taking the night train north, and will hopefully be back in my cozy home tomorrow. When the doctor calls to hear my decision, I might not even pick up.