Never Donate Your Kidney

So, this all happened about five years ago. I had just turned 21 and my life was admittedly a mess. The night of my birthday I went out and got absolutely hammered, and my wasted ass decided it would be a great idea to cheat on my gf with her best friend. Once word of what I did went back to her she dumped me and kicked me out of our apartment. On top of that she took most of our friends with her. So, there I was, alone for the first time since junior high, living out of my car, and feeling like a piece of shit. Probably because I was a piece of shit. Which is maybe why I noticed the sign on that truck.

It was printed on the back window and I must have seen it a million times as I came into work but this was the first time I really looked at it. It read: Help Need Kidney, Type O; and then some contact info. Now I’m not all that spiritual or anything but I realized as I read that sign that I had built up some seriously bad karma and given that I have type O blood, maybe now was the time to do something good for once.

So, I gave the phone number a call, worst case scenario I’d change my mind and just pretend like my doctor told me I couldn’t do it or something. On the other end was a very bubbly woman who seemed overjoyed that I had phoned. She explained that her husband desperately needed a transplant and that they had been trying to find a donor for months. Them and their two kids had been praying for someone like me to call. She even said that they had set aside $2000 for whoever was able to donate. All this made me feel great, I was helping out a family and I was going to make some good money too, hopefully enough to move out of my car and put an actual roof over my head. We agreed to meet up at their house and get to know each other, she explained that the actual donation process is pretty long and obviously, giving up a kidney is a big commitment, so they wanted to make sure I was serious.

I put the address in my phone and that weekend I drove out to their place. They wanted us to meet up at seven and because it was late October that meant that it was getting pretty dark by the time I set out. Following my phones directions, I soon left the city and found myself down a series of winding country roads. By the time I reached their address it was pitch black out. I stepped out of my car and walked to the direction of their home, only to find an empty lot. I looked around, there wasn’t a house in miles. Maybe they gave me the wrong address? As I walked back to my car, I started to have an uneasy feeling, thinking that maybe this whole thing was more then I could handle. As I unlocked my car and stepped inside I decided that when I got back into the city I would give that bubbly woman a call and tell her I couldn’t go through with it. I sat down in the driver’s seat and adjusted my rearview mirror, only to catch the reflection of someone in my backseat. That’s the last thing I remember.

I woke up in a grimy motel bathroom, my body in absolute agony. My lower back radiated pain and I had a splitting headache. I checked myself in the cracked mirror, there was a large stitched up incision right where my kidney had been. I slowly walked into the motel room proper and found my clothes folded up with my car keys and envelope on top. I opened the envelope to find 2 grand in $100 bills and a note that simply read “Thanks, for everything”. Once I composed myself, I went out to my car and drove as far away from that city as I could.

Now I know that the first response to being abducted and getting your kidney stolen would be to go to the hospital or call the police but I was just so spooked and frankly embarrassed by the whole affair that I just did my best to pretend it never happened. Besides, they did pay me. Eventually I healed up and outside of the scar on my back I was more then happy to believe it was all a bad dream. At least until a couple days ago. You see, I’ve been starting to go bald and the other day I decided it was finally time to just shave it all off. When I looked in the mirror after all my hair was gone, I noticed something. A second scar across the entirety of my scalp. I stared at it for what seemed like an hour, a terrifying question eating at my very soul: what else did they take?