— Arseny didn’t even raise his voice, and this calmness made it even more terrifying. — That you voluntarily signed the informed consent? “Voluntarily,” Arina, that’s the key word. No coercion, no pressure. Any court, any investigator will say so. We have your signature on every document.
Alla Mikhailovna grimaced and waved her hand at the orderly to turn her wheelchair towards the exit.
— Let’s get out of here, it stinks of bleach and poverty. It’s not good for me to get worked up before my surgery.
Yana took Arseny’s arm, and they moved towards the door, all three of them, without looking back, confident in their victory. Every step they took echoed in Arina’s head like a heavy blow, knocking the last of her strength, the last of her faith in justice, in people, in the very possibility that good ever triumphs over evil.
Arseny was already reaching for the doorknob when the door swung open sharply from the outside, almost hitting him in the face. A tall man in a white coat entered the room, with graying temples and the look of someone used to making life-and-death decisions several times a day. He was followed by two nurses and a young resident, and all their faces were tense, focused.
— What is going on here? — the doctor’s voice cut through the air, forcing Arseny to take a step back. — Who authorized subjecting a post-nephrectomy patient to this kind of stress? On the fourth day after surgery, still on an IV drip!
He cast a quick glance at the monitor recording Arina’s vitals, at her tear-stained face, at the trio of visitors frozen by the door, and something like poorly concealed disgust flickered in his eyes.
— Doctor Efimov, — Arseny tried to regain his usual arrogance. — This is a family matter, we’re just leaving.
— A family matter… — Efimov turned to him, and something in his gaze made Arseny fall silent mid-sentence. — I’m afraid I have some news for you, Mr. Rossinsky. For all of you.
He paused, and in that pause, for the first time in this entire nightmarish day, Arina felt something akin to hope — a tiny, barely smoldering spark.
— Your mother’s transplant has been canceled.
The words fell into the silence of the room, and for a few seconds, no one moved, no one breathed.
— What do you mean, “canceled”? — Alla Mikhailovna’s voice broke into a shriek. — I feel better, they’re giving me IVs, I…
— You feel better thanks to painkillers and supportive therapy, — Efimov spoke professionally, stating facts without emotion. — Immediately before the transplant, when the donor kidney was already removed and prepared for transplantation, a final express analysis of your blood revealed an acute phase of Hepatitis C and a critical deterioration of your cardiac function. If we had proceeded with the surgery, you would have very likely died on the table. The council of physicians decided to cancel the transplant.
Arseny’s face turned gray, taking on the shade of the hospital walls. Alla Mikhailovna clutched her side: there was only a preparatory incision under the bandage, but no new kidney. Yana covered her mouth with her hand, and the diamond on her finger gleamed dimly under the institutional lights.
— And the kidney? — Arseny forced out. — What about the kidney? A removed organ can only survive outside the body for a maximum of 4-6 hours.
Efimov folded his arms across his chest.
— When the primary recipient is deemed unfit, the organ, according to protocol, is offered to the next priority patient from the federal registry with compatible parameters. Thanks to the clause in the consent form your wife signed, we had the full legal right to use the organ to save another life.
— That’s our property! — Arseny stepped towards the doctor, his voice cracking. — We paid for the operation, we have the right to…
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