The Proposition

The appointment with Dr. Morrison was scheduled for Tuesday morning. Mom insisted on driving, which meant forty minutes of her lecturing me about family duty while NPR droned in the background.

“Your father raised you,” she said for the third time as we pulled into the hospital parking garage. “Fed you, clothed you, put a roof over your head. This is how you pay him back?”

“By risking my life?” I asked, my voice tight.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Lillian. It’s outpatient surgery,” she said, completely dismissive of my fears.

Outpatient didn’t mean risk-free, especially not for someone with an autoimmune disease, but explaining that to Mom was like trying to teach calculus to a brick wall.

The waiting room was packed. Mom immediately started chatting with another woman about her brave daughter who was donating a kidney. I sank deeper into my chair and tried to disappear.

“Lillian Kelly,” a nurse called my name.

I followed her into Dr. Morrison’s office. The walls were covered with diplomas and family photos. He was younger than I’d expected, with kind eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. He seemed the opposite of what I had expected—he wasn’t cold, clinical, but actually listened when you spoke.

“So, Lillian,” he said, sitting across from me, “how are you feeling about the procedure?”

Before I could answer, Mom jumped in. “She’s ready. We just need to schedule it.”

Dr. Morrison’s eyes stayed on me. “Lillian, I have some concerns,” he said. “About your autoimmune condition. My rheumatologist mentioned that major surgery could trigger a flare.”

“That’s a valid concern,” he said, making a note. “Have you discussed this with Dr. Patterson?”

“Who’s Dr. Patterson?” Mom asked.

“My rheumatologist,” I replied. “Yes, I’ve discussed it with her. She’s worried about—”

“Your rheumatologist doesn’t know everything,” Mom interrupted, clearly not listening. “Dr. Morrison is one of the best transplant surgeons in the state. If he says you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine.”

Dr. Morrison’s expression didn’t change, though there was a slight tension in his posture. “MRS. KELLY, I need to hear from Lillian directly about her medical history and concerns.”

Mom was now visibly irritated, but I managed to get my concerns across. Dr. Morrison took a breath. “There are other options we should discuss—paired kidney exchange programs, for instance.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“It’s when incompatible donor-recipient pairs swap kidneys. So if you can’t donate to your father for medical reasons, you might donate to someone else, and their intended donor would give to your father.”

Mom’s face went white. “But Lillian is compatible. You said so yourself.”

“Compatibility isn’t just about blood type and tissue matching,” Dr. Morrison explained. “We have to consider the donor’s overall health and surgical risks.”

“What kind of risks?” I asked.

Dr. Morrison pulled out a pamphlet. “For someone with your autoimmune condition, there’s an increased risk of infection, delayed healing, and the potential for triggering a severe flare that could affect your remaining kidney function.”

The room went silent. Mom was staring at the pamphlet like it had personally offended her.

“How increased?” I pressed.

“Significantly higher than the general population,” Dr. Morrison replied.

“I’d want you to get clearance from both your rheumatologist and an immunologist before we proceed.”

Mom stood up abruptly. “We need to discuss this as a family.”

The Turning Point

When we got home, Sadi was in the kitchen filming herself making a smoothie. She had her ring light set up and everything.

“Hey guys, so today my sister had her pre-surgery consultation and I’m feeling so emotional about this journey we’re all on together,” she said, turning her camera toward me.

“Turn that off,” I said, my voice tight.

“What? I’m just sharing our story.”

“It’s not your story to share.”

She lowered her phone. “God, what’s your problem?”

“You’re treating Dad’s kidney disease like content for your Instagram.”

“I’m raising awareness about organ donation,” she argued, “Do you know how many lives I could save by sharing our experience?”

“What about my life?” I snapped, the anger that had been building inside me spilling out. “What if something goes wrong during surgery?”

Sadi rolled her eyes. “Nothing’s going to go wrong. You’re being paranoid.”

“That’s not the point,” I said. “You’ve made my medical journey all about you. It’s not about you. It’s about me, and this surgery could ruin my life.”

The Breaking Point

After my conversation with Sadi, I started to rethink everything. I’d spent years giving everything I had to my family, to my parents, to my sister. It had never been enough. And now, they wanted me to risk my life for their convenience, without any regard for my well-being.

And then I remembered something.

I had been given a way out.

The paired kidney exchange program was an option, and it didn’t require me to sacrifice my own health for my family’s convenience.

I made the call to Dr. Morrison the next morning.

The Decision

“Dr. Morrison, I’ve decided to go with the paired exchange program,” I told him. “I can’t go through with donating my kidney directly to my father.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then he spoke. “Are you sure, Lillian? This could change everything for you and your family.”

“I’m sure,” I said, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. “It’s what’s best for me.”

The Aftermath

That evening, I gathered my family together in the living room. They knew something had changed, but they weren’t prepared for what I had to say.

“I’ve made my decision,” I said, looking at my mother and father. “I’m not donating my kidney to Dad. I’m going through the paired exchange program instead.”

Margaret’s face went pale. “You can’t do this. Your father is dying.”

“I know,” I said, my voice steady. “But I’m not going to risk my life just to fulfill your expectations.”

Bryson spoke up, his voice strained. “What are you saying? You won’t help your father?”

“No, I’ll help him, but on my terms,” I said, my voice firm. “I’m not going to sacrifice my health for your convenience.”

The End!