Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“Anonymous for what?”
“I want to donate one of my kidneys to Mr. Morgan… one hundred percent anonymously. He can’t know.”
Dr. Chauncey frowned. “I know you’re not family because I already asked Mr. Morgan about that. So why can’t he know?”
“I looked this up. There are anonymous donations made all the time… right?”
“Well—”
Vaughan didn’t let him finish. “If the patient is willing to participate in a kidney transplant procedure the hospital is not legally obligated to tell the patient the donor’s identity.”
“Did a quick Google search, did ya?” Dr. Chauncey smirked and Vaughan almost grabbed the man by his throat. Did he think it was a goddamn game? A man’s—his man’s—life was at stake and the clock was ticking.
“Yes, I did. Regardless, I’m an educated man. Not in the degree of medicine but I’m a lawyer. I know my rights on this. I can donate my kidney if I want, and since I’m a living donor, I can also specify where it goes. I bet if I went over to another hospital and told them I was there to donate a perfectly good, working organ, they’d have a needle in my arm in ten seconds flat, testing my blood. Are you going to deny your patient a chance at a normal life?” Vaughan’s voice was rising and people were slowing down as they passed by them. Dr. Chauncey looked around before turning back to Vaughan with a stern expression.
“Lower your voice. And I didn’t say I was denying anything.”
“So you’ll do it!” Vaughan grabbed Dr. Chauncey’s biceps through his mid-thigh white lab coat.
“Wait. I didn’t say that either. There are an extensive number of tests that need to be done to determine compatibility, sir.”
“My name is Vaughan Webb, doctor.”
“Mr. Webb, the testing can take weeks. But most living donors can’t specify who they donate to because of blood type matching.”
“I’m O doctor. My blood type is O,” Vaughan said confidently. His blood matched with any and everyone’s, but most of all… Duke’s.
Dr. Chauncey arched a brow and Vaughan knew he had the guy; so like the lawyer he was, he kept driving his point. “I also know you don’t have to be one hundred percent compatible in other areas. I have the cash to do this right now, damn going through insurance bureaucracy. You can save his life, doctor. You can also speed up the process using your patient’s need right now. I saw that more hospitals are using the one-day donor evaluation method to make it easier on the donor. Please. I’m begging you. Let me do this.” Vaughan was terrified but his voice was strong. “Start the testing immediately, please, doctor.”
Dr. Chauncey pinched the bridge of his nose. “First of all, this isn’t Johns Hopkins; it’s going to take more than one day for your eval. Our transplant team is slightly smaller. Second, are you sure you’re O?”
“Are you sure of your blood type, doctor?” Vaughan’s composure was waning.
“Follow me.” Dr. Chauncey turned and started walking towards the elevators; Vaughan stopped him.
“I can’t go back up there. Someone could see me with you.”
Dr. Chauncey turned; his long narrow face was twisted. “Are you sure you need to be anonymous?”
“Du… Mr. Morgan is an extremely proud man. He’d never accept it, especially from me. That’s the god’s honest truth.”
“Are you an enemy that’s going to hold it over his head the rest of his life?”
“I’m the man that loves him… now that really is the god’s honest truth,” Vaughan said softly.
Dr. Chauncey’s brows rose almost into his hairline. Finally, the man got it. There were no more guessing games. Just being involved romantically with the recipient didn’t disqualify him to donate… that’s the first thing he’d Googled.
“Let’s go to the ER. We can start there.” Dr. Chauncey made a left down a long hallway.
Vaughan wanted to jump on the man’s back and kiss his cheek, but didn’t think that would go well on the psych evaluation he was going to have to undergo. Instead he choose humor to settle, hopefully, both of their nerves. “If I were Mr. Morgan’s enemy… wouldn’t the ultimate revenge be to sit by and let him die… not save his life? I don’t think revenge works the way I’m doing it.”
Dr. Chauncey didn’t turn to look at Vaughan, but he could see the corner of his mouth twitching as they continued to walk. Yeah, doctor. You asked a dumbass question back there.
“You know you didn’t do this. This isn’t your fault, Quick. Don’t do this to me, man,” Duke whispered through a clogged throat. His emotions were riding him harder than a cowboy on a rank bull. He was in immense pain. His head throbbed, so did his body. He’d lost track of how many bruises mapped his back and torso. Everything ached, but he’d rather feel the pain caused by the beating than the pain in his heart. He hadn’t pushed for his morphine drip in several hours, mostly because he didn’t want to be drowsy when Vaughan showed up. He is going to show up, right?