Chapter 33 twenty-three

I ran as hard as I could, down the hallway into the clinic, past consultation room after consultation room, past nurses, doctors, patients, cleaning staff and others, all standing aside in amazement.I ran through the waiting room, past the counter, slammed open the fire door, and ran straight down the spiral staircase because the elevator was too slow.My footsteps echoed in the empty stairwell, the echo refracted back and forth between the walls, knocked on my head, mixed with these words: He hasn't told you yet, right? It's been more than a week since this decision has to let you here In this case, knowing that I ran down another hallway, down another spiral staircase, and down a third hallway, this time along the pool hallway, it might be too late for him to donate a liver to carpenter six grandchildren. Sorry the words, the echoes, the stairs, it all makes me dizzy.I staggered down another corridor, down the last spiral staircase, into a culvert in the upper basement, and finally through the heavy metal door of the surgery department.

Behind the door were two muscular male nurses in green surgical gowns waiting for me, of course they were waiting for me, because the surveillance cameras had been tracking me, and Pedro knew exactly where I was going, and had already called to warn.Two nurses blocked my path, forming a human wall like riot police, except they wore masks and protective headgear shaped like shower caps instead of bulletproof vests and helmets.One of the nurses removed her mask to reveal a large birthmark on her upper lip and said: The operation has begun, Dolly.Johannes.Obie is already on the operating table, we are sorry.

I stared at him, stared at his birthmark, the birthmark was very dark, like dark chocolate, shaped like a round coin with a diameter of one inch, as if printed on it, it looked very unreal.If I were him, I would have removed that birthmark, not to mention his work environment is full of surgeons and scalpels.I stared at him for a moment, then quickly ducked my head, trying to slip through a wall of two big men or a human riot shield.As can be imagined, I was unsuccessful.They were too big, too strong, too well prepared.Another nurse, who hadn't had time to remove her mask, grabbed me, folded my arms behind my back, and held me firmly, forcing me to lean forward.All I could see were my legs, my shoes and the dull green floor.I struggled to free myself, but he gripped harder, making my upper arm ache.

His voice came from the back of my neck, it was so weirdly gentle: The operation has begun, did you hear that?He seemed to be trying to sound calm, trying to comfort me, in stark contrast to the way he grabbed me like a policeman.He continued in the same tender tone: There's nothing you can do, the anesthetist has brain dead him, Johannes.Obie was gone, clinically dead. I tried again, tried to break free, but found it was useless, so I had to give up.He felt through my limbs that I gave up and let go.I pulled up my shirt, turned to face the two nurses, rubbed my upper arms, and tried to speak calmly.

I still want to see him. It doesn't make any sense.Said the soft-spoken but police-like nurse.He removed the mask, revealing a pointed nose and thin lips.He was gone, he continued: Although he looked alive, his breathing was maintained by a respirator, and although his heart was still beating, sending oxygen to the blood, there was no real life inside.It should be clear to you that he has lost all consciousness, can't hear or feel anything. But I can, I said: let me see him. They were operating to remove the liver, and a transplant team was on standby in a helicopter outside the building.You can't go in now, it's too late, sorry.You have to go back, you have to go home.We can make an emergency appointment with a psychologist if you want. Who is your psychologist?

I don't need a therapist, I want to see Johannes, that's the only thing I need, the only thing I want to do, the only thing I agree to.If I don't see him, I will kill myself, I promise you, I know how to kill myself quickly and effectively, no one can stop or save me. I know that whether they believe it or not, this threat must be taken seriously, just like the police have received a report that someone planted a bomb in a department store, whether they believe the tip or not, they must evacuate the people inside.I know that I am a worthwhile unwanted individual; that I am in perfect health, in good physical condition, with nearly every organ intact, and most importantly, with a baby, a human asset, beneath my beating heart.In other words, I am priceless, and they dare not bet on my life.

The nurse with the birthmark on her upper lip said: This may be arranged, and after they take out the liver, they may be able to let you in for a while. But when they come again, they will pick up another nurse with a gentle tone. Yes, but there is no rush, the birthmark nurse interjected: anyway, most of the others are going to be sent to the bank. Banks, they store organs and tissues that can be preserved in banks.The rest of Johannes' body will be kept in the bank.They remove everything that is medically valuable, including other vital organs, plus corneas, heart valves, bone tissue, and other tissues.Usable organs are harvested and stored in nutrient solutions or frozen.This is purely routine, and applies equally to needy individuals who are brain dead due to accidents or violent crimes.

The two nurses led me into a small lounge, closed the door behind me, and tried the handle from the outside, presumably to make sure it was locked. The lounge has a bed, a chair and a table, and it has windows.Yes, a real window.The windows overlooked a park covered with snow.It is winter outside.There is a frozen pond in the park. There is a crack in the ice in the middle of the pond. Ducks, grebes and other waterfowl are walking around on the ice, or jumping into the water, soaking in the water for a while, like winter swimmers.Around the pond were many groves and tall trees, on which the snow lay like many little covers, and the groves spread like shimmering mattresses on the ground.A strong wind blew the treetops, and snow fell like powdered sugar.

Something is not quite right.I should be on the K1 floor, which is in the basement, but the upper floor of the basement is obviously above the ground.There is no doubt that this is a real window with a real scenery outside.I was close to the window and could feel the wind blowing in through the crack of the window. The wind was icy and had the smell of winter.Out of pure reflex, I grabbed the window handle and pulled upwards to open it, but it was locked securely.I lowered my arms and stood straight in front of the window, looking at the white world outside, the real world, and the outdoor space.

After a while, I managed to take my eyes off the window and slowly scan the walls, the ceiling, the corners, the furniture, the light.As I expected, there is no monitor in this room, at least I didn't find it, unless it is a pinhole camera.In any case, the two nurses were obviously more afraid of my frantic rush into the operating room than of suicide. The birthmark nurse is back. Yes, he said: you can see him, but you have to wait an hour.You must wait here, we are ordered to lock the door, hope you understand. I nod. What do you need during this time?coffee?Tea?sandwich? Need not.

He turned to go out and was about to close the door when I changed my mind. By the way, I want an application form, you know. What application form? I want to do the application form of the final donation as soon as possible. The birthmark nurse looked stunned. Are you sure?He said: Are you pregnant? I didn't answer, just stared at him for a while.Embarrassed, he looks away.I thought to myself, he looks like he thinks he's stupid. He turned away, handed me an application form on his return, and left me alone in the room again.I sit down at the table.The first question on the application form is: This application form contains ⎕A.Move another district request. (please skip to question 2) ⎕B．Transfer another unit request. (please skip to question 5) ⎕C．Final donation request. (please skip to question 8) ⎕ D.Delay final donation request. (please skip to question 9) I check C, skip to question 8, and check A: 8.I hope that the eventual donation will be ⎕A.The sooner the better. ⎕B．Effective from this date: MMDDYYY. On the other side of the application form, in the bottom right hand corner, in the remarks column, I wrote: I am six weeks pregnant, requesting final donation, simultaneous transplant/abortion. I signed my name, ID number and date, turned my chair toward the window, and waited, looking at the pond, the trees, the snow, the birds, a male mallard emerging from the water, shaking, dripping It is splashed in a ring around it.It wobbled across the ice and headed for the rough, slippery shore.It slipped and fell on the shore several times, and finally climbed up to the snow-covered flat ground, where it stayed for a while, as if to catch its breath.Then it puts out its orange soles, swings left and right across the snow, a pair of soles that work like snowshoes, and doesn't break the snow surface at all, until it starts to run awkwardly and rhythmically, flapping its wings It made a loud noise, then flew off the ground, drew a faint green arc over the pond, and disappeared into the woods.