The Whispers

15: Kidney

"What is there unreasonable in admitting the intervention of a supernatural power in the most ordinary circumstances of life?" - Jules Verne, French novelist, poet and playwrite.

I'm not sure if I got all of the details right because I'm not a doctor, nor am I educated enough to properly guess what they said if I heard them wrong. However, here is what I think I understand from what I was told: the doctor said that when Maggie was stabbed in the stomach she must have fallen hard, causing a traumatic head injury. That, on top of the fact that the knife was lodged in her kidney and tore up her abdominal cavity from the inside, it wasn't clean and caused her to get an infection. In other words, she needs a new organ.

I don't see how they can't get rid of the infection, they're doctors, they should be able to do anything. Can't they just go in and take it out or something?  Sew up the part that was cut my the knife, give her some antibiotics, and release her?  It should be that simple.

"I'll donate my kidney," I offer. I've heard people can live just fine with only one kidney so it's not like I really need it. I'd gladly give up any organ if it meant that Maggie got to live, whether it meant I survive or not.

"You need to be an exact match to her or else she could reject it," Dr. Lewis explained.

It turns out that I can't just immediately go into surgery and take out my kidney for her, there's a whole process they have to do before they even consider taking out my organ.

I learned once that people can accept organs from people that their body might reject if the patient is about to die as a last resort, so perhaps them not wanting to put me into surgery right away is a good sign.  She's not dying yet, I gather.

They took my blood. I felt light-headed afterwards so Harper bought me a cookie. They told me they'd get back to me soon. Apparently soon didn't mean today because I've been here for hours and nothing has happened. It's boring and nerve-wracking at the same time and I hate it.

Around the seven-hour mark, I started to hear the voices.

"Norton wants to know how she is. Tell us, tell us, tell us!" I don't answer. I can't even see it. "You would want to know, too, if your little girl was stabbed. Don't keep quiet, speak to us."

"Shut up!" I scream at it. My head is pounding and I don't care who hears. I'm in the waiting room with Harper - it's just the two of us. Nobody could have heard have me, anyway.

"I didn't say anything," he states, looking at me skeptically. I feel bad for bringing him here - he hardly knows Maggie and now he probably thinks I'm hearing things in the hospital and having a mental break down.

I am.

Maybe he should know that.

"I know," I say.  Of course, I know that he didn't say anything, I haven't completely lost my mind, only when it comes to insects.

"Who are you talking to?" He asks, his eyebrow raised.

"Bugs," I reveal. It came out loud and clear and for some reason I wasn't afraid to reveal it. I can trust him just as he trusted telling me about his mom. He's heard voices in the past, he's told me, so maybe he won't judge me. Maybe he'll understand.

"Bugs?" He gasps. This shouldn't shock him - it's not like I've been subtle about my relationship with insects.  He knows about my dad, how I keep their dead bodies in a collection and kill them every chance I get.  Is he dumb?

"I can hear bugs talk to me," I clarify.

"What are they saying?" He's so quiet I can barely hear him.  He's trying to keep his voice down.  I'm thankful.