This choice: It's your father, Donald Connors. • Go Back...Chapter #3It's your father, Donald Connors. by: Wassel   "I'm afraid it's your father..."
"Muh... My Dad...?" you croaked on hearing his name. Your mind suddenly racing with questions. What had happened to him? Was he alright? What complications was the doctor referring to? Putting all of these thoughts to him then in an effort to discover the truth.
Again the two doctors looked at one another. Neither one appearing as if they actually wanted to tell you. Saunders however, eventually forced a smile. "Don't worry. He's fine. He's resting. It's just that... Well, I'm afraid there's really no delicate way to say this, but he's not exactly how you remember."
"Not how I remember... What does that mean?" Recalling what the two of them had been talking about mere minutes before. What you had initially dismissed as your drug fueled imagination. "Does it have something to do with the brain transplant you mentioned? Did... Did you do that to my dad?"
Looking somewhat embarrassed that you'd actually overheard this, Saunders coughed. "Uhm... Yes, actually. We had to." It being more than obvious that he felt conflicted. "Your father's injuries from the accident were just too severe, and his body was..."
"What Dr. Saunders is trying to say," Kerry interrupted, "is that your father was in critical condition when he arrived here. Short of finding him a new body I'm afraid there wasn't anything else we could do. If we hadn't have acted when we did, well... right now he'd be dead." Taking you through the procedure the both of them had supposedly carried out. "You see, although his body was very much close to death, his brain was still in perfect working order. All we had to do was remove a certain part of it... the part that makes up 'your dad if you will... and then attach it to the partially damaged brain of an otherwise healthy, donor body."
No. No this has to be some kind of joke, you told yourself. Not quite believing that this could be true. Brain transplants were the stuff of science fiction, not real life. Shaking your head in denial.
"I know it might sound a little far fetched, but scientists and doctors have been researching brain transplantation for years now. Dr. Saunders and I amongst them," Kerry assured you. Looking rather proud of himself. "And, as far as we can tell, the procedure seems to have been a resounding success. There's no sign of brain injury or nerve damage, and all of your father's synapses appear to be firing correctly. As soon as he wakes up he should have 100% feeling and full motor control of his new body. Isn't that wonderful?"
Wonderful? No, it wasn't wonderful. It was freaking insane! The very idea of your 43 year old father now being inside somebody else's body being just too bizarre for words. Still being unable to get your head around it. Only knowing that you wanted to see him. You wanted to see what they'd done.
"Where is he?" you asked.
"Well for the moment he's currently in recovery a little further down the hall," Kerry said. Wiping at his glasses. "He has just been through major surgery after all."
"I want to see him. Can you take me to him?"
It was at this point that Saunders stepped back in. Telling you in that calm, soft voice of his, "I'm not so sure that's such a good idea right now, son. You've only just woken up. Perhaps a little later, once you are properly rested."
You didn't want to wait until later though, growing even more anxious to see him now. Practically begging the two doctors then. "Please! Just for a moment. I want to see that he's alright."
Looking to his colleague for guidance, Kerry giving little more than a shrug, the older doctor sighed, thankfully relenting. "Alright. I guess seeing him for a few minutes won't really do any harm. But just a few minutes mind."
You nodded eagerly at this, agreeing to the terms.
Assisting you out of bed then, the two doctors placed your still half unconscious body into a wheelchair and wheeled you through the door. Saunders explaining while he did about how this was all going to come as quite a shock, and how he didn't want you to get too worked up when you saw him. This little pep talk causing you to become even more apprehensive about what exactly you were going to find... or more accurately, who. Picturing your father in your head. All 6 feet 2 inches of him. Your father having been a large, broad, muscular man. A former college football player in his youth. Possessing a wry sense of humor and a calm, dependable personality. Someone you could always turn to for advice and who nearly always had your back. A real role model. Now though, who knows what he'd be. Feeling your sense of dread suddenly increasing ten fold, as you came to a stop in front of another door, behind which your father lay...
"Listen, Tim, before we go inside, " Saunders said, kneeling down so that his eyes were now level with yours, "you should know that, as this was an experimental procedure, there really wasn't many viable donors available to us at the time. We had to take what we could get. And what we got was..."
| Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
<<-- Previous · Outline  · Recent Additions © Copyright 2024 Wassel (UN: wassel29 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Wassel has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work within this interactive story. Poster accepts all responsibility, legal and otherwise, for the content uploaded, submitted to and posted on Writing.Com. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author