When My Organs Gather for Their Weekly Informational Meeting
by Jensen WhelanFor the last twenty-four years my organs have been meeting once a week on Tuesdays to discuss the current health status of my body and any concerns that may have arisen. Normally this takes place in the stomach due to his central location and large open space that is easily adapted to a board room. Under the brain’s leadership the rest of the organs have been kept healthy and have, for the most part, functioned with great efficiency. His approach to leadership has so far been firm and effective.
As usual, my organs met just before five o’clock last Tuesday. They milled about the chest cavity for a few moments finishing conversations and making vague plans to meet with each other socially before stubbing out their cigars and cigarettes in the alveoli and entering the board room.
In his best public speaking voice the brain said, "I hereby call this meeting to order. If our secretary, Liver, would please read the minutes of the last meeting."
"No problem," said the liver. "Last week's scheduled meeting started slightly late at exactly 5:25 pm. The most important order of business in that meeting was a recent flare up of athlete's foot. First we argued a little about where we got it, finally deciding on the shower at the gym. Chairman Brain, you were yelled at by the kidneys for trying to blame the athlete’s foot on your girlfriend. We all agreed that she had nothing to do with it."
"Do all of the members concur thus far?" asked the brain.
"No objection so far," said the kidneys.
"Seems fine to us," said the lungs.
"Continue please, Liver.
"Then we took nominations for the Best Health Achievement of the Year Award. There were three nominations. Mr. Chairman, You nominated yourself for your 'recent work in self-medicating a nasty bout of herpes'. You nominated yourself again, Mr. Chairman for 'instituting a dietary policy of more fruit and fiber'."
"Indeed."
"Gallbladder nominated the Kidneys for 'their excellent work in ridding the body of toxins that Chairman Brain keeps trying to kill us all with'. After a long discussion, Mr. Chairman accepted this nomination on the grounds that his vote is allowed to count for 'as many votes as necessary to win this thing'."
"Was there anything else?" asked the brain.
"I think that was it," said the liver thumbing through his notes, "Oh, right, we talked a little about indigestion and heart burn. The Large Intestines filed an official complaint concerning what they said were, &339;cruel working conditions bordering on slavery.' They threatened to quit if they weren't given some kind compensation. We adjourned the meeting at precisely 8:34."
"Thank you, Liver."
"Your welcome, Mr. Chairman."
The appendix, who had never said anything at a board meeting before stood up and cleared his throat.
"I would like to address the board."
"Appendix, if you don't mind, we'd like to keep to the agenda and take comments at the end after the more important issues have been dealt with," said the Brain and looked to the Liver for some official support.
Shuffling his notes, the liver said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Chairman, but this is on the agenda. Right here, point number one."
"How can that be? I wrote the schedule for the meeting myself purposefully leaving out time to speak for everyone except me."
There were mummers from all my organs. "What an ass," the spleen whispered to the lungs. To which the colon and the rectum both responded, "We resent that!" The heart, who has long considered himself the most important and has a strong following among the lesser organs of the body, threatened to leave if the appendix was not allowed to speak. The meeting was beginning to collapse in on itself.
Being a shrewd and tactfully minded leader the brain said, "Yes, I beg all of your pardons. What I meant to say is how much I and the rest of the board were looking forward to addressing your concerns, Mr. Appendix."
"Thank you," said the appendix humbly but not without a certain menacing tone. "As many of you know, I have spent the last twenty-four years quietly sitting in my office below the stomach. Throughout the course of my employment, I have not done anything at all except confuse doctors and evolutionary scientists as to my purpose. I am extremely bored and would like to ask some of you to share your job responsibilities with me. Day after day I wake up and say to myself, 'Appendix, today just might be your day. Maybe you'll be allowed to process waste products, or pump blood, or produce bile. It could be that today is your time to shine, be a star, absorb oxygen and fire synapses.' But it never is and I'm sick of it!" He paused.
"Well," said the brain, feigning a smile and good natured laugh, "thank you so very much for that encouraging speech, Appendix. I think I speak for all the board members when I say we'll do our best to find some small jobs for you in the future."
"I'm not through. I've thought a lot about this and if one of you isn't willing to trade places with me and allow me to perform a function necessary to the upkeep and performance of this body, I'll leave!" In his anger he was starting to grow slightly larger and change color. It was the adrenal gland that was first to respond. Realizing that this may not be just a simple complaint from the appendix he set off the alarm in the central security office on of the top floors of my body. This caused the muscular walls in the abdomen to cramp and the heart and lungs to work more quickly. The board room cleared as the organs returned to their places with cries of distress. Only the Brain and his deputy, the liver, remained.
"Appendix, what are doing?" demanded the brain. "Now just calm down and we'll see what we can do about giving an important job and sizable raise. What would you say to a position as a receptionist over in the Lymph System? I understand that there has been a recent vacancy in the neck, I'm quite sure we can work something out."
The appendix continued to enlarge. He squealed with glee, "Now we’re cooking with oil!"
"Appendix, please," said the liver.
"You just knew he spoke in clichés when he got excited," said the brain under his breath to no one in particular.
The stomach responded to all the commotion by expelling its undigested contents. The gallbladder, never one to be left out of a good purging, happily contributed small amounts of bile to the process. I heard him in the lower recesses of my body whooping and crying with joy. Clearly, while most of the organs were in a great deal of pain, the gallbladder was enjoying working at full capacity.
As he burst, the appendix realized that what he was looking for was within himself all along. He collapsed, satisfied and deflated like a week old balloon from a child's birthday party, among the thick poisonous fluid of his own purpose.
Jensen Whelan's fiction and poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in The Fictionwarehouse, Scrivener's Pen, Eyeshot, The M.a.g., Identity Theory and Surgery of Modern Warfare. He lives in Stockholm.