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Chapter Twelve

"Welcome back, sleepyhead."

"You sure know how to scare the crap out of four guys."

"I'm getting too old for this. My heart can't take it."

"I picked a great fucking day to try to quit smoking."

It took some effort to open my eyes and even when I did I was staring through a milky haze, Kevin's face swam over me.

"He kinda looks like a fat. blonde Elvis."

"That's the water retention the nurse mentioned."

"Which one? Bitch Barbara or Big Boobed Brittney?"

Brian blushed.

"Must have been big boobed Brittney," I croaked. "What happened?"

"I found you with your pants around your ankles, bare assed by your crapper. It wasn't a pretty sight," AJ said. He forced a smile, but his eyes were red. He'd been crying.

"Shit," I whispered.

"What did I tell you? Only two visitors are allowed in at a time. This is the ICU for crying out loud! Now I'm going to kick all of you out. Go!"

Considering the tone of the nurse's voice and the lack of ample breasts, I figured this had to be Bitch Betty. Howie patted my shoulder.

"We'll be back ASAP," he promised.

"Do you want us to call your parents?" Brian asked.

"Hell no."

"We'll talk later. Let's go guys. Nick needs his rest," Kevin said.

Each of them filed out in turn. The room seemed a lot bigger without all the bodies, but a lot scarier. I eyed the nurse warily. She checked an IV bag, the contents pouring into a vein in my hand.

"Doctor Gutman will be in shortly."

"What's going on?"

"The doctor will talk to you," she said. She gave me a tight smile and left.

It was just me. And machines. I noted the pain was almost gone. I was almost comfortable and I was tired.

So tired.

"Mr. Carter?"

I opened my eyes. A short black guy that looked a lot like George Jefferson was standing beside my bed. I noted the white coat and name badge.

Dr. Gutman.

"You're a very sick man."

I almost laughed. How many times had some chick told me the exact same thing? Or one of the guys for that matter?

But now, I was in a whole new league of sick. It wasn't a laughing matter. I watched as the doctor picked up my chart from the end of the bed and flipped it open. "You were diagnosed with cardiomyopathy in 2008," he stated.

"Yeah." I said. "But it's almost undetectable now. I started eating better and exercising."

"They noted a slight decrease in kidney function at that time as well, correct?"

I nodded.

"When were you diagnosed with acute kidney failure? I can't read what it says on the chart."

My well of denial was telling me to say never. "Six months ago."

"When was that changed to chronic renal failure?"

"Six weeks ago," I said quietly. When Lauren left me. When I had a virtual blood bath in my kitchen from a nose that just wouldn't clot.

When everything changed.

"Did the specialist you saw at Vanderbilt talk to you about getting on a transplant list?"

"No...maybe. I don't know."

"Mr. Carter, your kidneys are failing. Without receiving a healthy kidney you're going to be faced with the need for dialysis four times a week and the longer you're on dialysis the harder it will be for even a healthy kidney to function longer than ten or fifteen years. We need to get you on a course of action. Ignoring this will be fatal."

"Then give me a new kidney," I said.

"It's not that easy. There have been people waiting for years. I'm going to prescribe some heavy medications to see about prolonging to need to start dialysis, but you might seriously consider asking friends and family if they'd be willing to be tested to see if they're a good match. Family's the best option since there's a better chance of blood and tissue matching."

I snorted. Who the hell in my family could I go to? There wasn't a single person in my family that hadn't done some damage from drugs or alcohol abuse. Except Angel. But would she? Could I even ask her?

"--a wife or girlfriend could even be a possibility. If conceiving is an issue, studies have shown that women with one kidney can carry a pregnancy to term just as successfully as a woman with two fully functioning kidneys."

"I don't have a wife or a girlfriend," I snapped. "Isn't there any way to bump me up the list? Money's no object."

The doctor's face turned stony. "Money can't solve all of life's problems." He closed my chart.

"We're going to monitor you for another day or so and get you started on the medication I mentioned. I want you monitored to see if you even respond to it at this point. It might be too--"

"Can I come in?"

Penny hung awkwardly in the doorway, her long legs looking incredible in a dark red skirt.

"Visiting hours are almost over. I'll let you have some time," Dr. Gutman said. He clipped the chart back onto the end of the bed and walked out. Penny still hovered in the doorway.

"This is a nice surprise."

"I heard on the news you had died." She took a couple steps in. "I thought I'd come check for myself."

"I'm still kicking." I grinned. "Sorry to disappoint."

"Contrary to popular belief, I don't want you dead. What's going on? You look...tired." I knew I should tell her. I had lied to her more times than I could count. This was my chance to be honest with her. Maybe she'd feel so sorry for me that...

No, I didn't want that.

"Just a cold," I said, rolling my eyes. "No biggie."

"Nick," she stepped closer still. She sank into a fugly orange chair next to me. "You're in the ICU. You don't get in here for just a cold."

"The chicken pox?"

Her brow furrowed. "Can't you ever tell me the truth?"

"You really want to know?"

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't," she said.

I took a deep breath. It was going to be the first time I said the words aloud. Brian had run across the pamphlets Vanderbilt had given me. I hadn't needed to say it or admit it.

"My kidneys are failing..."

"And I'm scared. Really, really scared."