Clever Girl

Chapter 38: we all belong somewhere

The philosopher Thomas Aquinas once said that the charity brings to life again those who are spiritually dead. Where death is escapable or uncertain, and its meaning is figurative, it cannot be stated in such an absolute way. Can I be so bold to apply to this myself, when this act of charity is for my mother? Do I have the right to turn it away?

As I wait to be seen by the head of Donations, a familiar anger creeps up into my soul. I'm angry at the donor, who thought we needed a hand-out. I'm angry at this hospital for making it so difficult to find a simple answer. Most of all, I'm angry at myself for being unable to process everything emotionally. 

When the minutes fall into a full hour, and my own conviction in my stance falls with it, the door of the meeting room opens and a couple of people walk out. One thanks the other and leaves the office. The other approaches me and holds out a hand, "Hello Miss Boniadi. My name is Richard Mahoney and I manage the donations. I understand you're looking for the name of the person who made the donation towards your mother's medical bills, is that correct?"

I stand up and shake his hand, and I attempt to sound as calm and welcoming as possible. "Yes, that's correct."

"Well, here's the situation. When we accept donations, we give the donor the right to remain anonymous, if they should so choose to. It will go against our written policy, and the contract they sign, if we divulge their name afterwards. Any change, dispute, or other action that either goes against the donor's stipulation, or the recipient's right, becomes a legal matter."

"I understand that, but you have to understand my position as well . . . " What exactly is my position? How can I explain myself to him in a way that will somehow make it acceptable to break a signed document? I bite my lip, searching for something to say that won't make me sound like a disagreeable idiot. "Would it be possible to refuse the donation?"

"Certainly you can, but why would you want to?"

"Because we didn't earn that money. It should go to someone more deserving."

"Miss Boniadi, are you speaking for yourself or for your mother?" he raises an eyebrow, probably judging me beneath this slightly amused look.

I don't blame him. If I was in his position I'd be judging me too. What am I doing? "I guess I shouldn't speak for my mother. Though the reality is that I'm not certain of the donor's motive. It's a sizeable amount that can potentially change our lives, but what if there's a catch? What if the person later makes themselves known and excepts something in return? No one gives such a gift without strings attached."

A few seconds pass, during which I'm sure his opinion of me declines greatly. When he speaks again, it's with a tone that suggests he's gone past judgement and has settled on a verdict. That I am indeed an idiot. Still, he keeps it formal and professional, "If your mother wishes to decline, she will need to sign a rejection letter."

"No, I make all the payments for her. My name is on her file, so I can sign for her."

"For making payments, yes. However, she must provide her consent in respect of any decision that will affect her rights. As I'm sure you know, she has not been deemed incapable of making decisions for herself, and you have not been legally named a substitute decision-maker.  She, and only she, can sign it. We can then forward it to the donor and have that be that."

Defeated and embarrassed, my shoulders fall as I take a small step back, "Is it possible for you to contact the donor, and ask them if they're willing to speak with me on the phone? I want some assurance that tomorrow, or a week from now, or even a year from now, nothing bad will happen because of this money."

"I can ask them, but I cannot guarantee they will agree. I will contact them tomorrow and have my assistant call you with the result as soon as they respond. Now-" he walks backwards towards his office doors, "If there is nothing further, I do have a conference call that's about to start. Thank you for your visit today, Miss Boniadi, and I do hope everything works out."