After His Faked Death, I Gave Him to Medical School

The day my husband, Julian, was declared brain-dead, his student, Lily, collapsed in a fit of sobs, begging me not to give up on him.
In my first life, I did everything she asked. I sold our home, our cars, everything we owned, just to keep his body functioning. I only discovered later that it was all a charadea meticulously planned fake death so he could escape a massive malpractice settlement and run away with her.
I was the one who paid the price. The victim's family, in their grief and rage, pushed me from a cliff. My body was never found.
In this second life, I see everything clearly. If he wants to play dead to escape his responsibilities, then I will gladly help him achieve his "noble sacrifice."
The moment he was officially declared brain-dead, in front of the hospital's board of directors and a scrum of reporters, I pulled out the document he had once used as a grandstanding PR stunt: his Anatomical Gift Donation Form.
"Julian dedicated his entire life to medicine," I announced, my voice trembling with staged emotion. "His greatest wish was to become a silent teacher for the next generation of doctors after his death. It's because I love him that I must honor his last wish! I'm donating his body to the medical school!"
1
The silence in the ICU was oppressive, broken only by the rhythmic, monotonous beep of the heart monitor. Dr. Julian Heard lay on the bed, his face a pale, waxy mask, his eyes sealed shut.
The attending physician held up the EEG report and gave me a slow, sorrowful shake of his head.
"May, I'm so sorry. We've confirmed it. There's no brain activity."
Standing beside me, Lily let out a theatrical wail. Tears streamed down her face as she swayed, about to throw herself onto Julian's body.
"Dr. Heard how could this happen you're so young"
The nurses and residents around us averted their gazes, their eyes red with emotion as they dabbed at their own tears.
If I hadn't lived through the horror of my past life, I might have almost believed her performance.
I stood my ground, my own eyes dry, and simply watched Lily's act unfold.
She looked up at me, her eyes shimmering with tears.
"May please don't fall apart. I know he's brain-dead, but as long as he's on the ventilator, his heart is still beating. He's still alive!" she pleaded. "We have to save him! We can't give up! Even if it means bankrupting ourselves, we have to keep him on life support!"
Bankrupting ourselves.
Such a noble sentiment. Except she meant bankrupting me. Selling my assets. All to fund their escape, leaving me to deal with the fallout.
In my last life, those very words had moved me to action. I sold our house, liquidated our savings, borrowed from every friend and family member I had, pouring tens of thousands of dollars into the hospital every single day.
And what was my reward?
Six months later, the money was gone. And Julian had "vanished" from his hospital bed. The next I heard from him was a phone call, asking me to meet him at a cliffside lookout. But when I arrived, it wasn't him waiting for me. It was the family from his malpractice case.
As I tumbled over the edge, his voice came through the phone one last time, twisted with venom. "You love me more than anything, right, darling? If you love me, you'll die for me. Your life insurance policy will be just enough for Lily and me to start over somewhere nice and warm. She'll never forget her dear mentor's wife."
The wind had screamed in my ears as my body was torn apart on the rocks below.
I took a deep, steadying breath and pulled my arm from Lily's grasp.
"May?" She stared at me, her face a mask of shock.
I ignored her and turned to the attending physician, Dr. Evans.
"Dr. Evans," I said, my voice perfectly level. "Please call it."
He blinked, confused. "Call what?"
"The time of death."
My voice didn't waver. "Brain death is legal death. That's medical fact. It's better than letting him suffer, hooked up to a dozen machines like a living corpse. Let him go with dignity."
"No!" Lily shrieked. "May, are you insane? That's your husband! Are you in such a hurry to see him die?"
She scrambled in front of the bed, spreading her arms to shield Julian's body. "As long as I'm here, nobody is touching his ventilator!"
A murmur went through the staff gathered in the room.
"Do you think the shock was too much for her?"
"It seems so cruel even if there's just a sliver of a chance"
The tide of opinion was turning against me in an instant.
On the bed, I saw Julian's eyelashes flutter, an almost imperceptible movement.
Slowly, deliberately, I reached into my purse and pulled out a file.
"Everyone," I said, my voice catching as I held up the document, tears welling in my eyes on command. "This isn't my decision to make."
"Julian told me, more than once, that if anything ever happened to him, he never wanted to be kept alive by machines. He didn't want a life without dignity. He dedicated his life to medicine. He said that if he couldn't save lives on the operating table anymore, he wanted to become a silent teacher, to help students learn to save lives in his place!"
The room fell silent.
The color drained from Lily's face. Her expression was frozen.
"This is an Anatomical Gift Donation Form," I declared, slapping the document onto the bedside table. My voice rang with conviction. "It has Julian's signature, notarized and legally binding. It's because I love him that I have to honor his final wish! I'm donating his body to the medical school!"
You want to play dead, Julian?
Fine.
I'll make sure you become a real specimen.
Preserved for eternity.
2
The donation form was real.
Three years ago, Julian had orchestrated the whole thing as a publicity stunt to help him get his promotion to associate professor. He'd even had a local news crew interview him. He had laid it on thick, sounding so incredibly righteous.
"I would rather my body be cut a thousand times if it meant paving the way for the future of medicine," he had said, looking directly into the camera.
He never imagined that the prop from his little performance would be the very thing that sealed his fate.
Lily's face was now the color of chalk. Of course, she knew about the form. She was the one who had run the paperwork to the notary's office for him.
She was trembling, her eyes darting in terror toward the man on the bed.
Beneath the sheets, Julian's fingers twitched violently.
I saw it.
But I pretended not to. Instead, I rushed forward and clasped his hand, my voice thick with emotion.
"Darling, I know you can hear me," I whispered. "Don't worry. I'll make sure your last wish is fulfilled."
Just then, the Dean of Medicine burst in, flanked by a nervous-looking group of hospital administrators. They had been in a panic over the malpractice settlement. But when he heard the news about the body donation, his eyes lit up.
This was a godsend.
A classic case of turning a disaster into a PR triumph. The negative press from the malpractice suit could be completely overshadowed by the moving story of a brilliant surgeon's ultimate sacrifice for medicine.
The Dean strode over, grabbing my hands with both of his, his mustache trembling with excitement.
"Dr. Clarke! This is a truly selfless act! Truly selfless!" he boomed. "Dr. Heard was the pride of this hospital, a pillar of the medical community! Rest assured, we will give him a send-off worthy of his immense contribution!"
Lily panicked. If she didn't do something, Julian was going to end up on a dissection table.
"Mr. Dean, you can't!" she cried, dropping to her knees in a heap. "His body is still warm! This is against protocol! We can't just just murder him!"
She latched onto the Dean's leg, smearing tears and snot all over his expensive trousers.
I let out a cold, quiet laugh. "Dr. Shaw, did you sleep through your anatomy classes?"
I looked down at her, my expression one of pitying disdain. "After brain death, the body's thermoregulatory center fails. The warmth you're feeling is just residual metabolic heat. It will dissipate soon enough."
I swept my gaze over the other doctors in the room. "We are all professionals here. Surely I don't need to explain such a basic concept?"
No one spoke. But the way they looked at Lily had changed. It was a mixture of confusion and contempt. For a surgical resident to argue against such a fundamental medical principle was deeply embarrassing.
"Security," the Dean ordered, his face darkening. "Please escort Dr. Shaw out. She's overwrought with grief and is no longer behaving rationally."
Two guards moved in, lifting Lily by her arms. She struggled wildly, her eyes locked on the bed in desperation.
"Dr. Heard! Say something! Wake up!" she screamed, her voice raw and cracking.
Julian lay perfectly still. But I could feel his fear.
He didn't dare wake up.
If he opened his eyes now, he would be exposed as a fraud. His career would be over, his reputation destroyed, and he'd be facing millions in debt and a prison sentence.
He was gambling.
He was betting that I was just bluffing. That in the end, I wouldn't have the heart to actually pull the plug.

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