Page 52 of The Doctor's Truth

Kenzi, on the other hand, looks like she wants to die. Her bottom lip is quivering, but she keeps it together.

“Start the car,” I tell Jason.

As Jason gets the car going, I do a quick check on Otto’s vitals. When his body unwinds from its rigid state, I inspect his face and peel down his eyelid.

That’s when I notice it. The yellow in his eyes.

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Kenzi

“Focal segmental glomerulosclerosis.”

Donovan spouts off the words like they mean something to me. It’s another string of hospital gibberish. Words that sound like a life sentence and feel like weights on my heart.

We’re in a glass room, separated from the waiting room, which I guess is designed to give loved ones a little privacy while receiving hard news. I don’t feel safe, though. I feel like a goldfish on display.

“What does it mean?” I ask.

At least Donovan’s eyes are kind, familiar, and they never leave me. He sits calmly in the chair across from me, and I hug my arms around my chest.

He translates. “It’s a rare disease that causes benign cysts to build up in the kidneys and prevents them from working properly.”

“So his brain…?”

“Completely normal. The seizures came from the toxic buildup that occurred when the cysts overpowered his kidney function, not from any damage to his brain.”

Hospitals, I find, are like intricate games of Whack-A-Mole. As soon as one problem goes away, another one pops up.

Donovan is incredibly calm and level as he delivers the news. I try to match his energy, but I feel like I have pins stuck in my throat.

The next question I ask is selfish. “What causes it?”

There’s a small, quiet part of me that is constantly terrified that I’ve done this to Otto.

Donovan’s brown eyes are gentle. “It’s inherited. The reason it’s so rare is that both sets of parents have to have a recessive abnormal gene.”

I blink. “Do I have it, too?”

“Not exactly. You could go your whole life without knowing you have a recessive gene. To you, it’s normal, and your body functions as it should. It’s just when your genes come in contact with a similar carrier that you have a perfect storm.”

I let the information sit with me. “If only one of us had the gene…”

“It’s hard to say,” Donovan reasons. “Otto might’ve shown similar signs, but the chances are slimmer.”

“So what you’re saying is…really bad things happen when Jason and I procreate?”

“And really good things,” Donovan reminds me.

The news has me off-kilter. I feel myself sway briefly in my chair, and I grip the armrests for something to ground myself. “What comes now?”

“There is no treatment,” Donovan says, “but with medication, we can manage the damage to his kidneys. In Otto’s case, I’d want to get him on the transplant list immediately.”

“I’ll donate,” I say quickly.

“We’ll test you,” Donovan says. “But there’s no guarantee you’re a match. Finding the right match…it can take years. In the meantime, we should start looking at getting him dialysis a couple times a week.”

I’m underwater. My brain is swimming. “Please give me good news.”

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