Vain Bequest

It was early Monday morning and the sun had not yet risen. It was Russell’s first day of his new scheduled time at DaVita Dialysis. He requested the change in time so he could possibly return to a somewhat normal life. The three hour stints each trip to dialysis lasted made it difficult to keep a normal schedule when they occurred in the middle of the day. Suddenly, his phone began to ring.

“Russell, we’re ready for you,” said the nurse. He would have to let the call go to voicemail.

He entered the dialysis area and stepped on the scale to weigh himself. That was the first step of the process during each visit. 55.7 kg the meter read. He took the paper that displayed his weight and made his way to his chair.

“Good morning, sunshine!” said Cayla, the sardonic technician who often began Russell’s treatment. “Did you miss me this weekend?”

“Of course! You’re the only reason I come here,” he responded.

Cayla cleaned the area of his inner upper left arm, the location of his fistula. She wrapped the tourniquet around his arm and inserted the two 16-gauge needles.

“Everything feel okay?” inquired Cayla.

“Sure does,” responded Russell.

“Well, let me know if you need anything,” she said as she left to attend to the next patient.

Russell removed his phone from his pocket to listen to the voicemail from the previous call. It was from a phone number he did not recognize. He pushed play: “Hello, Russell. My name is Tracie Tomak and I am an attorney who represented your cousin, Braden Hawthorne. I am pleased to inform you your cousin has left you $20,000. Please contact our office for instructions on how to collect your bequest.”

Russell was quite surprised. His cousin, Braden, who had recently perished in a hunting accident, had not spoken to him in the last year. When Russell discovered he was suffering from end stage renal failure, everyone in the family had been tested for a potential match to donate a kidney. There were no matches, except for Braden. Russell’s initial excitement that he had found a donor would be short-lived. Braden refused to donate his kidney on religious grounds. Not that his particular religion forbade such an action, but rather Braden’s own self-righteousness. He recalled their last conversation:

“Braden, I can’t tell you how much it would mean to me if you were willing to donate your kidney,” Russell had pleaded. “It would literally save my life!”

“Look, I just don’t want to donate my kidney,” said Braden. “I’ve never had surgery. I’m young with no scars and I’d like to keep it that way.”

As nice as it would have been to have a kidney and put an end to the dialysis treatments, $20,000 was a nice consolation. Russell immediately knew how he would spend the money. He removed the black Moleskine notebook from his bag. He opened to a page that read ‘Outstanding Medical Bills’ across the top. He began to read through the list written on the page:

Premier Medical Care-$714

Premier Medical Care-$314.61

Michigan Medicine-$2,398.15

Michigan Medicine-$60

Michigan Medicine-$45

Michigan Medicine-$3,229.24

Michigan Medicine-$61.34

Davita Dialysis-$663.51

Bronson Battle Creek-$993.45

All combined for a grand total of $8,479.30. Yes, $20,000 would help a great deal. The big question would be what to do with the remaining $11,520.70. He began to ponder and quickly thought of a new car. Nothing fancy, but new to him. He began to envision cruising down the street, windows down without a care in the world. The sun was shining, and the radio was playing his favorite song.

“Russell,” Cayla said, gently shaking him awake. “You’re all finished.”

Russell was slightly embarrassed having fallen asleep. However, it did make the time go much faster. Cayla removed the needles from his arm, and he applied pressure to the gauze until the bleeding stopped. This was standard procedure during each visit. Russell then returned to the scale to get his parting weight. The machine released a slip of paper reading 53.3 kg. He returned it to Cayla.

“Any big plans for the rest of the day?” she inquired.

“No, not really,” Russell replied.

Russell returned to his car with a smile on his face. He looked up the address for Tracie Tomak’s office and entered the destination into his phone. It was a 17-minute trip. He put on his seat belt and set course. He had money to collect—and bills to pay.