It was your infirmity that eventually got your release. Convinced that you're on your death bed (not bloody likely!), the courts agreed that you should be allowed to live out the remainder of your days at home. An entire wing of your house was converted into a small hospital prior to your arrival.
That was months ago. Most of your organs have failed since, to be replaced with machines. Your shrivelled up body is hooked up to respirators, feeding tubes, IV drips, electrocardiograms, the works. The only think keeping your blood from turning to sludge is 24-dialysis and the liver of the small Ethiopian child you pump it through twice-daily (the third one you've gone through this month - that stuff is poison.)
But your brain is as active as it ever was, and like a rat leaving a sinking, burning ship, it wants out. A full-body transplant. It can be done, you're sure of it. It's not like you have any other option.
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