Page 117 of The Doctor's Truth

He gives Otto a fist bump on his way out, which Otto half-heartedly returns.

Pearl hugs Otto tightly and tells him how brave he is.

It’s strange. I spent so much time wanting this moment, waiting for this moment. But now that it’s here…the thought of putting my son’s life in the hands of a surgeon is terrifying. Even if that surgeon is Jason King.

I pet Otto’s long hair back from his forehead. “I really should’ve trimmed this.”

He blows at his bangs. “I like it.”

I press my lips together. “How are you feeling?”

He shrugs. Then he admits, “A little scared.”

“I know.” I hold him. I don’t want to let him go. “I love you, little man.”

“You’re my bacon, Mum,” he says, and I don’t even want those words to leave my ears.

* * *

The surgery takes over ten hours.

Jason opens Donovan, removes the kidney, and then carts the organ over to Otto’s room, where he stitches it inside my baby.

I only know this because doctors come by periodically to keep me in the loop with small, hopeful updates.

As the clock ticks on, I start to feel like my soul has completely left my body. The only thing keeping me grounded is Pearl, who slips her hand in mine and holds it.

We sit in a private waiting room and watch the minute hand click on the clock on the wall.

I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I take Jason’s advice and replay a recording I made in voice notes over and over again. It’s a simple sound, just my own voice telling me, “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

It’s two in the morning, and just when I think I’m going to completely lose it, a familiar face rounds the corner.

Jason is sweat-soaked and pale, and for a second, my heart lurches in my chest and nearly climbs out my mouth.

But then he smiles, that crooked, boyish grin of his. “Surgery was a success,” he says. “Otto is coming out of sedation now. He’ll be out in a few minutes—”

I don’t let him finish what he’s saying. I launch myself at Jason and wrap my arms around him. I hold him as tightly as I can, curling up into him, and he hugs me back, holding me.

“Thank you,” I whisper, and my voice comes out as a sob. “Thank you, thank you…”

* * *

Otto is drowsy. Otto complains that he can taste the saline. But Otto is alive. My boy is alive, and his body is no longer poisoning him from the inside out, and everything is going to be okay.

I can’t stop looking at him. I can’t get close enough to him. I can’t stop touching his hair, to the point where he swats my hand away with a whined “Mum.”

For him, he just woke up from a long nap, and now he’s got a strange scar up his abdomen. For me, I feel like I’ve been stuck in the foxhole in the middle of a war zone for the past ten hours.

Eventually, Otto and I fall asleep curled up in his hospital bed.

I don’t know how long we sleep for. When I wake up, I notice it’s dark outside the window, and the curtains are drawn. They’ve turned off the overhead light, too, but there’s still a light from the adjoining bathroom, and the light that filters in through the box window in the doorway.

Pearl sleeps in a cot beside the hospital bed.

Otto’s arms are splayed about in all directions which is, somehow, his most comfortable position to sleep in. By some miracle, he hasn’t pulled out any of the IVs or wires attached to him, and I’m soothed by the consistent beep of his heart monitor.

I hear muffled voices in the hallway. Through the door window, I can see Jason talking to another doctor. Jason rubs his hand over his mouth, his forehead creased with concern.

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