She sighed and slumped back into her propped-up pillows as the dialysis unit set to work beside her pumping her blood in and out of her body, whirring continuously with a click punctuating the monotony every few seconds. Although she knew this tall grey thing was in essence saving her life, she couldn’t help glaring at what she thought looked a bit like an automated teller machine. It was her fourth—or was it fifth? she’d lost count—time receiving dialysis and already the thought of having to do this indefinitely filled her with despair.
The actual process of dialysis was better than she’d imagined but it was so time-consuming. At first it had been hard watching all that blood leave her body, but she was used to it now. The worst part was at the start when they stuck two needles into her wrist to retrieve and return her blood.
‘You’ll get used to it,’ had been the common refrain from all the nurses so far. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to the needles but she tried to tell herself it was all for the greater good. This process was going to make it so that she could continue to live a ‘full, normal, active life’, or so she’d been told. Personally, she didn’t see how being hooked up to a machine two or three times a week for three or four hours at a time—depending on how much fluid weight she gained between sessions—was ever going to feel anything like normal.
Her life was so full with teaching all her little music students, volunteering for Meals on Wheels and attending her book club and quilting groups, not to mention spending time with Hugh and Paige, that she didn’t know when she was supposed to fit dialysis into it.
Something wet dropped down onto her hand and she realised she was crying. Again. Dammit. She reached for the tissues, annoyed—at herself, at her situation, at the world in general. She’d been an emotional mess since her admission to hospital and already gone through two or three boxes of tissues.
But apparently that too was normal. The nurse who’d hooked her up the first time had talked incessantly, quoting statistics at her—sixty per cent of dialysis patients experienced some kind of depression. As if it would make her feel better that she wasn’t unique. Even almost two weeks after her diagnosis, Rebecca could still hardly believe she had such a serious, life-threatening condition. And she’d had lots of time alone during that time to ponder her situation.
Hugh and Paige had barely left her side in the first few days and she’d had plenty of other visits from her parents, Hugh’s mum and her friends as well. But even though they might want to, her family couldn’t put their lives on hold—they’d had to go back to work—and so sometimes she’d found herself with hours on end to simply contemplate her navel. That’s when she found her mind going to places she usually didn’t allow it to go.
Dark places.
She once again glanced over at the photos of her nearest and dearest on her bedside table. Paige was right, these were her favourites, but there was a third hidden in the house that neither her daughter nor her husband knew about. Her stomach churned at the thought. As Hugh was much older than her and had a bit of a dicky heart, she’d always assumed he’d die first, but this kidney scare had reminded her nothing was certain. Why had she never thought about what would happen if she died and they found it?
What would Paige and Hugh think? Would they ask her parents?
And would her parents tell the truth about the photo she’d been hiding while keeping close to her heart since she was sixteen years old? A photo they’d begrudgingly given to her when they’d told her it would be better to forget and never talk of him again. She’d kept the latter part of that agreement, but as if she could ever forget.
A mother never forgot.
Over the years there’d been times when she’d almost told all. When Hugh had first asked her to marry him, she’d thought about it, believing that husbands and wives should have no secrets. But, as if sensing she was close to coming clean, her mother had sat her down one day and warned her against it. What good would it do? Even if he wasn’t angry, he’d want to know details and his curiosity would bring it all back to the forefront. All the pain, all the heartache—not only of having to give away her little boy, but the betrayal of her first love who she’d been so certain would stand by her.
Wasn’t it better to leave the past in the past?
Her mum had reminded her that the baby had been adopted by a kind, infertile couple who were desperate for a child and would love him as if he were their own. They could offer a more secure home life than she as a single, teenaged mother who hadn’t even finished school ever could. Her parents made it clear that giving up her child had been the selfless decision.
‘Good afternoon!’
Rebecca’s heart lurched as if she’d been caught doing something illegal and she looked up to see Clara coming into the room. Heat rushed to her cheeks and she snatched up a tissue and swiped at her eyes.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to give you a fright,’ said the nurse, coming across to the bed. ‘I just thought I’d check how you’re doing. You must be feeling like an old hand at this now. Beautiful family you’ve got there.’ She nodded towards the photos which had somehow ended up in Rebecca’s lap.
‘Thanks,’ she just managed.
‘Are you okay?’ Clara asked, frowning slightly. ‘I know adjusting to dialysis can take some time but most people have learnt to live with chronic illness before that, whereas you had it thrown on you out of the blue.’
‘It was a bit of a shock and I’m going stir-crazy in here. It’s making me a little nostalgic.’ Rebecca glanced down at the photos again, fighting a sudden urge to tell this near-stranger things she’d never even told her husband. The weight of the secret she’d been carrying all these years felt unbearably heavy all of a sudden.
‘Making you what?’ Clara prompted, and Rebecca realised she’d said the last few words almost too quietly to be heard.
‘I …’ She looked up into the other woman’s eyes, which were filled with such kindness and concern. What harm would it do telling her? Weren’t nurses bound by some confidentiality clause? Or was that only doctors?
Either way, why would Clara tell anyone her secret?
Rebecca took a deep breath but as she was about to continue, Paige arrived.
‘Good morning, mother dear,’ she said, practically skipping past Clara to kiss Rebecca’s cheek.
‘Hi, Clara,’ she added and then lowered herself into a chair.
Paige’s eyes came to rest on the box of tissues and the pile of used ones next to it on the bed. ‘Oh, Mum, what’s wrong? Why are you so upset?’
‘I’ll leave you both to it.’ Clara patted Rebecca on the shoulder before quietly retreating from the room.
‘Mum?’ Paige clutched at her hand.
‘I’m okay.’ Rebecca forced a smile she didn’t feel. ‘Dialysis makes me tired and I’m frustrated being stuck here. I keep thinking about all my responsibilities and all the people I’m letting down.’
‘Well don’t. The world hasn’t stopped turning because you’re here. Your piano students are probably happy for a few weeks unexpected holiday. Geez, I remember when I was their age and you tried to force me to learn an instrument.’
The look of horror on Paige’s face made Rebecca laugh. As much as she’d tried to encourage a love of music—singing and instrumental—in her daughter, Paige’s artistic talents always laid elsewhere.
‘And I also got a little overwhelmed thinking about all the lifestyle changes I’m going to have to make.’ She might be piling it on a little thick but Rebecca didn’t want Paige suspecting there was anything but illness upsetting her. ‘I was reading the brochure about living with kidney disease and it all sounds like such a palaver—I have to cut back on salt, potassium, phosphorus (whatever the hell that is), alcohol, the list seemed endless. And I’m supposed to exercise.’
‘Mum, you barely drink anyway, walking the dog counts as exercise so you’re already doing that and I’ll help you with the rest. I’ll eat healthily with you; I could probably do with losing
a few kilos before the wedding anyway.’
‘You’re perfect as you are. But thanks, my darling.’ Rebecca squeezed her daughter’s hand. ‘And speaking of my absolute favourite thing, have you and Sol set a date yet?’
Paige shook her head. ‘No. We want to make sure you’re well, so I was thinking maybe we shouldn’t rush but wait until after you’ve had your transplant.’
‘No way!’ Rebecca was adamant. Who knew how long they could be waiting for that? ‘Please, promise me you won’t let my illness come into consideration. You said you didn’t want a long engagement and I’ll be perfectly able to help you organise a wedding between these blasted dialysis sessions.’
‘Yes, but what’s—’
Rebecca guessed Paige was about to ask what the rush was but she cut her off. ‘You could wait for me to get better and something else terrible might happen.’ She knew all too well how things could be delayed indefinitely if you started waiting for the perfect time. ‘Forget about my kidneys, forget about everything else except you and Solomon—decide when you’d want to get married if there were no other considerations and set that date.’
‘Okay, Mum, I’ll talk to Sol about it tonight,’ Paige promised.
They wedding-talked a little longer, which helped pass the time until the original nurse walked in to unhook Rebecca from the machine.
Hugh arrived a few minutes after the nurse left, carrying a takeaway coffee from her favourite café. ‘Here you are, my love.’ He placed it down beside her, then leant over and kissed her.
‘Thanks, honey. I’m probably not supposed to drink too much caffeine, but if I can’t have my coffee, you may as well shoot me now.’
‘Mum, don’t talk like that,’ Paige scolded, then gave her father a hug. ‘Here, you sit down.’ She gestured to the chair she’d just vacated and perched herself on the end of the bed.
‘How was your dialysis today?’ Hugh asked as he settled into the seat.
‘Fine.’
A knock sounded on the door and they all looked up to see Dr Chopra. She was the reason both Hugh and Paige had come into the hospital in the middle of the day—they’d arranged their schedules so they could be here while Dr Chopra updated them on Rebecca’s progress.
‘Good morning.’ The doctor smiled and then glanced at her watch. ‘Actually, good afternoon. We better talk quickly before they bring your lunch.’
Rebecca rolled her eyes. ‘No rush. The food isn’t anything to get excited by.’
Dr Chopra chuckled. ‘Sorry to hear that. Now, how are you feeling after this morning’s dialysis?’
‘Alright I guess.’
‘We haven’t had results from today obviously but your waste levels are definitely improving from your treatment.’
‘That’s good,’ Rebecca said hopefully. ‘Do you think it’s possible I might not have to have as frequent dialysis sessions as you first thought?’
‘Sadly not.’ The doctor plucked a stylus from her pocket and scribbled something down on the tablet she was carrying. ‘Your kidneys won’t get better so you need the dialysis to do their job or you’ll get sick again.’
Paige piped up. ‘But a transplant will fix her for good, won’t it?’
Dr Chopra smiled at Paige. ‘A transplant should give your mother a new lease on life, but we won’t be able to perform the operation until we get Rebecca’s disease under control. Both the surgery and the medication we’ll use to prevent a rejection can place significant strain on the body, causing problems if you are already unwell, so the earliest we’d be looking at a transplant is six months from now.’
Six months? For the sake of her family, Rebecca tried not to let her despair show on her face.
‘There are two options regarding kidney transplant,’ continued the doctor, ‘a living donor or a deceased donor. Right now, the wait time for a deceased donor is about four years, so a living donor is the best option if you can find one. The first step is to test willing family members to look for a match.’
‘I’ll do it.’ Paige shot her hand up into the air like a kid in school. ‘Mum and I have the same blood type.’
‘I don’t think you can, honey.’ During Rebecca’s endless hours in hospital she’d read all the brochures the doctor had left and googled everything she could about kidney transplantation, discovering that neither Paige nor Hugh were likely candidates.
‘Why not?’ Paige’s expression was one of outrage.
Dr Chopra looked to Rebecca, a slight frown creasing her brow.
‘She has diabetes,’ Rebecca explained.
‘Ah, I see.’ The doctor nodded slowly. ‘That does rule you out I’m afraid, but even if you were a match and suitable, due to your age and the fact you don’t have children yet, we’d highly caution against you being your mother’s donor. There are higher risks associated with pregnancy for women who have donated, so we don’t recommend donation for women who are of childbearing age and haven’t yet had a family.’
‘Oh.’ Paige blinked and Rebecca could tell she was close to tears but trying to hold it together. She shot her a grateful smile.
‘What about me?’ Hugh asked. ‘I know I’m thirteen years older than Rebecca but I’d give her both my kidneys if I could.’
‘Your age wouldn’t necessarily be an issue if you were a suitable match and in good health,’ said Dr Chopra. ‘Do you know if you are the same blood type?’
Rebecca answered before he could, not wanting to get his hopes up. ‘He’s had a heart attack and suffers from high blood pressure.’
The doctor’s shoulders visibly slumped. ‘I’m afraid that rules you out as well, but we shouldn’t lose heart. What about other family members? Brothers? Sisters? Cousins? We’d probably advise against a parent as even if they were suitable, they’d likely be getting towards the end of what we consider optimal donor age. However, a donor doesn’t have to be blood-related, so you might have a non-blood relative or a friend who is suitable.’
Rebecca’s brother, Anthony, was severely overweight, which she also knew ruled him out and she silently scoffed at the idea of asking a friend. It wasn’t like asking someone to borrow a cup of sugar or lend a couple of hundred dollars until payday. Quite aside from the physical aspect, she’d be asking someone to take time off work and put their lives on hold for the operation. And what if they said no? Or worse, what if someone only said yes because they didn’t feel they could say no? Waiting for a deceased donor or spending the rest of her life on dialysis seemed like a more appealing option than having that awkward conversation.
‘I’ll have a think about it,’ she said.
‘Good, that’s all we need at this stage. I’ll leave you a pamphlet about how to approach people and we can talk about it more soon. It can be daunting having to ask someone, but in general people are willing to help if they can. Obviously, they’ll need to undergo extensive testing to make sure they are physically and mentally able to donate, which is why we want you to start thinking of possible donors now.’
‘But won’t we need to find someone with the same blood type and stuff as Mum?’ Paige asked.
‘A blood and tissue match is preferred but there are options if you find someone willing who doesn’t fit perfectly. Rebecca’s blood type is O, which is the hardest to find a match—neither A or B blood types can donate, however if you found a willing donor we could put you both on the Paired Kidney Exchange Program.’
‘What’s that?’ This time the question came from Hugh, who like Paige had been quiet since being told his kidney was of no value.
‘It’s a register that you and your living donor would be put on to try and match you with other patients and their incompatible donors until we find the right combination where your donor could be matched to another recipient and vice versa.’
‘I see.’ There was so much to take in and the doctor’s words only emphasised what Rebecca had already guessed—that getting better might not be as quick and straightforward as she’d hoped—but hearing it aloud
was overwhelming. She fought the urge to cry again, not wanting to make Paige and Hugh feel any worse than they already did.
And then a thought struck—maybe now would be the time to tell them about her secret son. Surely they wouldn’t be able to get angry at her when she was so sick and in hospital. But this thought was immediately followed by another.
What if her son was fit and healthy and a blood and tissue match?
Her skin prickled at the thought, but it was a moot point because as if she’d hunt down her child for the sole purpose of requesting an organ. How would that look?
Oh hi, I’m your mother. Sorry I didn’t tell anyone about you or try to contact you until now, but hey, how do you feel about giving me your kidney?
She laughed out loud at the notion and the others looked at her strangely.
No, she could not tell them—not now—because Paige (who’d always thrown her whole heart and body into any pursuit) would probably make it her mission to hunt down her half-brother and demand he hand over his kidney.
‘Sorry.’ She coughed. ‘I swallowed some air the wrong way.’
Paige
Paige barely heard the front door open and Solomon pad into the kitchen where she was sitting on a stool at the counter hunched over her laptop.
‘Hello, sexy.’ He came up behind her and kissed her neck. ‘What’s for dinner?’
She glanced at the time on her computer screen—almost seven pm. ‘Shit. Sorry. I totally lost track of time.’ Generally, she and Sol shared the cooking duties—taking turns depending on who’d be home first. Today, one of the only weekday evenings where she didn’t have commitments at the studio, that was her.
‘It’s okay,’ he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and massaging. ‘We can go out or order takeaway.’
She moaned and closed her eyes as her head lolled back onto his chest. ‘Man, you have talented hands.’
He laughed. ‘I think you’ve mentioned that before. But you’re pretty knotted up. How long have you been sitting here?’
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