This choice: Your 40 year old mother, Jennifer Connors. • Go Back...Chapter #5Your 40 year old mother, Jennifer Connors. by: Wassel   "...Your mother. I'm so very sorry."
"My...My....My mom?" you squeaked, feeling your throat turning suddenly dryer as tears began to form in your eyes. Though you could feel yourself physically starting to well up, a part of you wasn't yet ready to accept it as real - the truth being just too horrible to comprehend. "No. No, it can't be." you quickly protested, changing your tune. "Mom can't be dead. She can't!"
The two doctor's expressions didn't change however, looking just as solemn and as uncomfortable as they had done before, each of them staring nervously at the other waiting for someone to reply. It was the other man that eventually did, Saunders, as he took a step closer to your bed and furrowed his brow. "I'm afraid she is, Tim," he said, placing a hand gently on your shoulder (a hand which truth be told you were barely able to feel). "You see the truck that struck you, that caused the accident, it plowed into the left side of your car where both you and your mother were sitting. While your mother's body was mostly unharmed due to her airbag deploying, it seems that the actual force of her hitting it caused a blood clot in her brain to rupture. This in turn caused an aneurysm, which in the end killed her...or at least ceased any brain activity. By the time they brought her in, there was sadly nothing we could do. Well, other than what we did for you."
"We had to act fast." Kerry then interjected, taking over from Saunders. "Your own brain was in perfect working order but your body was failing. It was damaged beyond repair. That was why we suggested the transplant procedure to your father. It was brand new and not yet fully tested, but it was the only way we could possibly save your life."
All of this just seemed so hard to believe and though you were having a hard time even following what they were saying, one important piece of information did stand out. "So you...you really put my brain inside my mom's body?"
"It's a little more complicated than that, but in a manner of speaking, yes." he nodded. "Obviously transferring a entire brain into another persons skull wouldn't exactly work like it does in the movies, so we instead took a part of yours and grafted it onto a part of your mother's. That way you'd be able to control her motor functions and her senses."
Though he was trying to be as delicate and sympathetic as possible, it was obvious that Dr. Kerry's bedside manner wasn't the greatest, a look of pride appearing briefly on his face as he described the 'procedure' that had trapped you inside the body of your own dead mother. "I think I'm going to be sick." you groaned, feeling incredibly lightheaded and woozy, the thought of what had been done to you being just too much to take.
"We of course understand that this is going to be very hard for you to get to grips with. It really is a lot to take in all at once." Dr. Saunders then said, taking the baton from his colleague again and giving him a slightly disapproving glare. "That is why Dr. Kerry here didn't tell you this straight away, and I apologize for the deceit."
Kerry however just shrugged and the two men began having hushed words with one another that you couldn't quite make out (Saunders basically chastising him for lying to you when he said you were okay). Truth be told though, you really couldn't care less about all that now, having much bigger things to worry about than some crackpot doctor's reluctance to give bad news. You were now apparently in the body of your own mother and although you'd been told this, you'd yet to actually see any proof. Your current numbness from the drugs, added to your position on the bed making it impossible to know what kind of state you were really in.
"Can I see?" you weakly asked, interrupting the two men's tête-à-tête, "...I want to see."
"I uhm, I'm not sure," Saunders stuttered, flashing you a slightly awkward smile. "Perhaps it might be a little too soon. You have only just woken up after all."
"Please. I need to see."
Looking over at Kerry for assistance, the balding, mustachioed Doctor once again just shrugged, clearly having no idea what to do in this situation. Letting out a sigh and turning back to you Saunders thankfully relented. "Okay. But please, Tim, try not to get too worked up. This will be a shock and it will take a lot of time and a lot of adjusting to get used to. Not to mention the fact that your body is still recovering." You could tell from his voice that he obviously thought that this was a bad idea and deep down you couldn't help but agree, feeling a growing sense of dread as he picked up a small mirror from a nearby table. You had to do this however. You had to see what you'd now become. But more than that, you needed to see your mom's face again. You needed to see the proof that she was really gone.
Moving the mirror in front of your face, you let out a sharp gasp, watching as the reflection in the mirror did the same, it's eyes widening and it's mouth dropping open, looking absolutely terrified and yet saddened by what it saw. "Oh God...Mom." There staring back at you was your mother, Jennifer Connors, looking incredibly tired and weak. Her longish blond hair all matted and disheveled. Her soft green eyes tear strewn and puffy, and a series of small small stitches decorating the top of one eye. It was her. It really was her. Or more importantly, it was you.
"As you can see, there really is very little sign of any external damage visible on the cranium." Dr. Kerry explained, being unable to help himself (clearly very enthused by the results of his handiwork). "We managed to even preserve your mother's hair using a rather new and highly advanced, non-evasive surgery technique that I patented myself. To the outside observer, they wouldn't even know anything was amiss."
"Kerry!" Saunders barked, shushing his colleague. There being a time and a place for boasting and this clearly not being it.
"This can't be real. It can't be." you muttered, having not really been listening anyway, being too distracted by the eerie sight of your mother's face moving as you moved. Hearing really for the first time the sound of her own croaky voice coming from your mouth.
Placing a hand once again onto your shoulder for comfort, Saunders moved the mirror away and replied, "I'm afraid it is, son."
"But...but how am I going to go on living like this? Like my mom? ...How?"
"Well that is something we still have to discuss. But perhaps that is best left for later, once your father is here. Right now you need to rest." the doctor told you, looking even more uncomfortable, his eyes darting away as his hands moved up towards your IV drip. "We'll talk again soon though, once you're feeling more up to it."
You tried to protest, not wanting to talk about it later, wanting to talk about it now, but it was too late. Whatever drugs they were pumping you with had quickly taken effect and you felt yourself suddenly starting to drift. Why me? Why mom? It's just not fair. was the last thought o your mind as you felt unconsciousness slowly began to creep in. Why did it have to happen to us?...
When you woke again some time later...
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