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Subject: Title story: "The Transplant" Author: BigSarah 95866774
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Date: Tue, 09 Jan 2007 17:26:52 +0000
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The Transplant by BigSarah@aol.com
It all started when my older brother, Mark, got his drivers license. Most of the
guys his age had been saving up for a car but Mark wanted a motorcycle. And I
had to admit, hed done a pretty good job of saving the money he had made from
bagging groceries at the local IGA and from his paper route. Me, whenever I got
a buck in my jeans, I spent it. But Mark saved every penny that he could. So
that after he got his drivers license the first thing he did was to get his
motorcycle learners permit and then but a beat up old Suzuki. It wasnt much I
remember it as being from 1979 or thereabouts and having a 175 cc engine. It had
originally been intended for off road use but it had been modified so much that
you couldnt really tell what it was for now. But it was his and Mark loved it.
Whenever he wasnt working, or sleeping, or in school, hed be out in the garage
working on his cycle. I dont really know what he did except that it seemed to
involve removing parts of it, looking at them, and then putting them back on
usually in different places.
So anyway, a couple of months after he bought it, Mark offered to take me for a
ride on it. I jumped at the chance, thinking we were just going to take a couple
of turns around the neighborhood. But no, Mark had to get out on the Interstate
he always was a little crazy. So were riding along the Interstate, me sitting
behind mark and with my arms around him and clinging on for dear life, and hes
telling me how well the bike is running. I was pretty much OK up until the point
where he said: Now, let me show you what it will do, and gave it full throttle.
The engine roared and in just a few seconds we were going so fast that when I
looked off to the side, everything was just a blur. I felt a little vibration,
and then it got worse and Mark shouted: Aw Crap!, and then the bike was wobbling
back and forth, and I remember Mark falling off and me flying forward over the
handlebars and then nothing.
I woke up in a hospital bed some time later, I dont know whether it was hours,
or days or weeks. I do know that I felt like shit and really hurt all over. Mom
was there and she looked like she was pretty tired. I asked her what had
happened, even though my lips were all puffed up and it was hard to talk. She
told me that Mark had lost control of the cycle and there had been an accident.
Is Mark OK? I asked. Dont worry about that now. You need to get your rest, she
said and I kind of drifted off to sleep.
Over the next couple of days I was awake more and more of the time. It was
then that I learned that Mark had been killed and that although I had some
serious internal injuries that I would survive. As I became more aware of my
surroundings I found that most of my body, with the exception of my lower
abdomen really didnt feel too bad. Oh, there were some scrapes and bruises
but nothing serious. I could see a tube leading out from under the sheets
and feeding into a bag partly filled with yellow fluid hanging on the side
of the bed. When I tried to shift around in the bed once I could see the
tube move a little but the pain in my groin flared up so I settled back
where I had been lying.
Anyway, the nurses were changing the dressings on my groin area every day but
lying on my back as I was I couldnt see much. Finally, after a couple of more
weeks the doctor said that I was nearly all healed and they could leave the
dressings off from now on and I could start sitting up in bed. So the next day I
was sitting up in bed, alone in the room, and I wondered about the pain I had
felt in my groin and the tube so I slowly pulled back the sheets and looked down
there and saw the tube going into my body in my groin. But I didnt see what I
had expected to see my dick and balls. There was nothing there but some scars
and that tube going into my body. The doctor came in then and came over to me
and said: I see that youve found out about the damage to your pubic area. There
was so much trauma to the area that we couldnt save your penis and testicles.
But other than that youre in pretty good shape. OH CRAP, like Ive got no dick
and no balls, but other than that Im in good shape? Thanks a lot.
I was pretty depressed over the next couple of days, but I did look forward to
getting out of the hospital and going home so I worked hard at walking up and
down the corridors, building up my strength, whenever the nurses would let me. I
still had the tube leading into the bag to collect my urine but eventually the
doctor removed the catheter and pronounced me ready for discharge. After the
catheter was removed and I was alone, I looked down and examined my crotch. The
scars really werent too bad, but other than a little hole, maybe an eighth of an
inch or so across there was nothing else there just smooth skin. This was going
to take some getting used to.
But finally I got to go home. Even though the doctor had discharged me from the
hospital, I still had to return on a weekly ...
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