Transplant
The phone call comes in, from the expert at the renal unit. He uses a word, so chilly, so dark: rejection.
One kidney functional. It's on the edge of shutting down.
Suppose we could roll those dice? I have two healthy kidneys; you have one, a transplant that's threatening to die.
If it does, so do you. So do I.
Suppose those dice were mine? Would I flick my wrist, seven-come-eleven, make you whole again?
I cast the bones, offer the kidney. They run tests, while I cross fingers: seven-come-eleven.
Results? "Incompatible".
In life, in love, our dice came up snakeyes.
Also, can I take this moment to say a terabyte's worth of thank-you's to our beloved Steph?
Awwww. You are most welcome!!! And thanks for the compliment!
Deb -- ouch. Just....ouch.
Just....ouch
Yep.
Erin, I was too buried until late last night to say so, but that drabble rocked.
And echoing the "Teppy gets roses and a hotel room with hot and cold running hot men!" thanks.
Chiming in with Teplove and thanks for the drabbles. I've wanted to participate more, and I certainly enjoy reading them.
Guys, thanks for all the good words. Perfect topic at the perfect time. I didn't even think or revise; it was just there. 45 seconds from topic reading to post, and BAM! Strange how that happens. It's like when you're at home and you twist your hair up randomly and secure it with a pin, and then clean house -- but you see yourself in a mirror and you're like "WTF? My hair looks fuckin' GREAT? Where's the justice?"
Tep, I LOVE the drabbles. It really helps to keep my hand in.
And, Deb -- I can't even imagine WANTING to give my self away, and having mere blood and cells negate that desire. That's hideous.
Can't get this down under 100, but I'm not going to stress about it.
All In.
“The game is no limit hold 'em. The Cadillac of poker.”
I’ve played this game before. I’ve sat at the high rollers table and gone all-in. I remember feeling the gazes of everyone else at the table on me as I walked away from the table, hands in empty pockets.
“I can hardly remember how I built my bankroll, but I can't stop thinking about the way I lost it.”
I made a big play, one that I thought would pay off. I was wrong.
“You can't lose what you don't put in the middle. But you can't win much either.”
Maybe it’s time to start building my bankroll again. I’d like to make it to my personal Vegas and Mirage – the big time. Maybe this time, I’ll get that winning hand.
juliana, whoa...
And, Deb -- I can't even imagine WANTING to give my self away, and having mere blood and cells negate that desire.
Especially when you've already realised - at 18 - that he is never going to love you as much as you love him. Or love you as much as he loves his wife. Who, so far as I know, never offered a kidney.
Damn. 18? That's some pretty big love. I was wishy-washy about lending out my fucking SHOES at that age.
Damn.
Yep.
18?
Yep.
That's some pretty big love.
You think?
I was wishy-washy about lending out my fucking SHOES at that age.
I've never been wishy-washy about anything in this world. Not ever. But especially him.
I have the feeling there are quite a few drabbles brewing on the gambling theme. Interesting to read, interesting to write. The ones already done have been corkers.
