“I believe the one tech that’s on duty tonight is pretty busy. Dr. Chauncey said we’d do the preliminaries this evening and you could make an appointment tomorrow to finish up. You’re pretty lucky. Most donors have to take at least two to three days out of their schedule just to complete all the testing.”
“No. No.” Vaughan shook his head. There’s no way he could go home without having an appointment for the surgery. He wouldn’t rest until he was one hundred percent sure that Duke was going to survive.
“Yes.”
Vaughan turned around to the definitive order in Dr. Chauncey’s voice. “That’s it for tonight, Mr. Webb. I emailed the doctor for the psych eval, but he probably won’t respond until tomorrow… or actually later today when he gets in.” Dr. Chauncey put his hand up to stop Vaughan’s ongoing protests, continuing what he was saying. “He knows this is a critical case and we can get you in real soon, but I don’t think it’ll be today.”
Vaughan dropped his head in his hands, fending off more tears. Crying wasn’t going to solve a goddamn thing. Everything was going to be all right, he was seeing to that, but he’d have to be patient. Why he’d thought donating a kidney would be easy and quick was obviously….
“I just checked on Mr. Morgan.”
Vaughan’s head shot up and next thing he knew he was up out of his seat, moving across the lab area to stand in front of the doctor. “How is he? Is he… is he…?”
“He’s fine. His other injuries are not going to be a factor in performing the surgery laparoscopically. He’s a relatively healthy man. No heart conditions, history of diabetes. I’ve submitted him to the donor board for review. I should have an answer for you in the next couple days. That’s really the best I can do, Mr. Webb. I’ll remind you that this isn’t Johns Hopkins. We can’t do everything in twenty-four hours. We’re just not staffed that way.”
Well get me the fucking Nightingale and transport our asses over there then. Vaughan ground his teeth. That wasn’t necessarily bad news. He hated the sound of “a couple days,” but at least the doc was talking about Duke surviving the surgery, like he was sure it was going to happen. His tests must be looking good, then. He figured he’d cut them some slack. He needed to get his affairs in order anyway. As if the doctor sensed him calming down, he added, “Rushing can cause oversights, Mr. Webb.”
“Can you call me Vaughan, please?”
“Vaughan. We want Mr. Morgan to have a fighting chance and I’m glad you’re adamant about helping him, but I feel this decision was made hastily. So talking with Dr. Townsend, our psychiatrist, will really be the deciding factor. Our candidates need to be willing to donate, not feel obligated to donate.”
“I don’t feel obligated at all. It’s not like he asked me and now I feel like I can’t say no. Doing it anonymously should take that thought off the table. Right?”
Dr. Chauncey opened the door to the lab and motioned for Vaughan to walk through it. “Dr. Townsend will call you soon. In the meantime, read over those pamphlets and the material I gave you earlier. There’s some pre-donation recommendations you should know about and also what you’ll need in preparation for surgery.”
“Surgery!”
Oh no. Vaughan recognized his father’s voice before he even turned around. How the hell did he find him down in the ER? Vaughan quickly shook Dr. Chauncey’s hand and thanked him for his help, trying to quickly usher him away before turning to face his father.
Quick had been texting him for hours. All he responses were that he was walking the grounds, so obviously his dad had been looking for him.
“Vaughan David Webb.” His growl still caused goosebumps on his arms, even as an adult. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Vaughan tucked some of the papers back inside the large folder where he had accumulated all the information about a living donor surgery, and began walking towards the front of the hospital to get to the main elevators, his father’s heavy boot steps fast on his heels. “I’m gonna save him, Dad, and there’s not a force on this earth that can stop me.”
Vaughan’s bicep was grabbed in an unforgivable grip as his father yanked him around to face him. “You sure about that?” Those magnetic green eyes were radiating authority. Quick was a hulking man, standing even taller than him, his face a contorted mask of hurt and ferocity. That look used to freeze Vaughan in his tracks, but now, it made him jut his chin out and puff up his chest. He’d meant it. Nothing would stop him from saving Duke, hell, from at least trying. Did his father really think he’d sit on his ass and wait for Duke’s funeral?