“Geographical location is another consideration. Usually an organ will be transported from one hospital to another, in very rare cases, a donor and recipient may be in the same location. You’re lucky that you live so close to the hospital where you’ll receive your transplant – but unfortunately we have no way of knowing where the recipient will be when their organs are harvested.”
I am lucky in that respect, I live only a short drive away from the best hospital in the whole country – if that weren’t the case there would have been an awful lot of travel and emergency flights in my past.
It also means there’s no need for me to locate my nearest transplant centre or find a surgeon to do the operation when a heart does become available – I’ve got all the support I need right here in this building, and I’ve got one of the best surgeons in the business who’s not only available, but knows my entire medical history first hand.
There aren’t a lot of patients in the world that would be able to say that.
“Where the donor and potential recipients are located is also taken into account with allocating where an organ may go – you’re looking at about a four-hour window. So, a heart could become available tomorrow, but it might not get here in time to be viable, do you understand?”
I nod my head.
I’m doing my best to look at this from a medical perspective – the same way my doctors do, but when words like ‘harvested’ are being thrown around, it makes it hard.
It’s near impossible to think of a donor as anything other than a person that’s life has come to an end – usually a sudden, tragic and unexpected end where organ donation is concerned.
It’s difficult not to feel guilty for thinking about how I could benefit from that type of tragedy.
“All going to plan, we’ll observe you for the next week or so and then you’ll be able to go home.”
I want to go home more than anything – the last thing I want is to be stuck here while I wait for a heart, but there’s a weight in the bottom of my stomach that’s telling me not to get my hopes up.
“What do I do in the meantime?” I question.
“In the meantime we’ll get all of the boxes ticked. You’ll undergo a full evaluation to ensure that you are indeed a good candidate for the transplant. You’ll need an examination physically and also emotionally and mentally. We’ll make sure all of your blood work is up to date and I’m going to enrol you in the cardiac rehabilitation programme now, so when your time does come, you’re already ahead of the game.”
It sounds like a lot, but it’s really nothing new for me. I’m clearly in good hands here so I nod and smile in acceptance.
This is just another shitty situation I have no choice but to make the best of.
Violet
Present day
“I’m sorry, sweetheart; I know you were hoping to go home tomorrow.”
I don’t know what he’s apologising for. It’s not his fault I got sick.
He’s one of my favourite nurses but right now I can’t even muster a smile for him. I’m anything but happy about my current situation.
I’ve managed to catch a nasty bacterial infection that’s doing the rounds of the ward.
Every second person in here has a cough, runny nose and sore throat – and now, so do I.
I’ve had my fair share of germs over the years – it’s something I’ve accepted goes hand in hand with hospital stays, but this particular bug is stopping me from leaving, and from what I’ve heard, people in much better shape than me have been fighting it off for close to a month – which means I’ll probably have it for two.
It also means that if by some stroke of luck a heart were to turn up tomorrow, I’d probably have to turn it down.
I know that I’m nowhere near the top of the list at this point, and there’s plenty of people in line before me, so it’s not likely to even be an issue, but still, the set back is frustrating.
As is the reality of being confined to this drab, boring, little room for a long period of time.
It’s not as though I’ve contracted some type of critical illness, but given the current situation with my heart, letting me go home is something that no one is willing to risk.
Personally I don’t get it. I caught this bug here, I only have this nasty throat infection because I’m stuck in this hospital. I’ve tried to reason with everyone that comes through my door that I’m at a higher risk of getting sick by being here than I would be in the comfort of my own bedroom, but no one is having it.
So, for the foreseeable future, I’m stuck right where I am.
I’ve already been here over two and a half weeks – albeit, one and a half of those were spent unconscious, but still. I’m seriously concerned about my mental health if I have to stay for too much longer.
My face must be doing a fine job of showing how unimpressed I am about my extended stay because he laughs.
“It’s not all bad in here,” he points to himself, “some of us are actually pretty cool.”
He’s not a lot older than I am, and he’s not wrong – he is very cool, but that doesn’t mean I want to spend the foreseeable future in the place he works, so I try my hand at flattery.
“You know you’re my favourite nurse in this whole place?”
He chuckles.
I pout at him. “We’re friends, right?”
He shoots me a ‘nice try’ look. “You and I both know I can’t spring you from this joint.”
“There goes that plan,” I grumble.
“Look, I know it’s boring in here sometimes…”
I raise my brows at him in disbelief.
“Okay, so it’s boring all the time… but you could read a book, make some photo albums, catch up on movies or listen to some music… come to think of it, I’m actually a little jealous.”
“How about I trade you?” I deadpan.
He passes me my laptop off the chair in the corner and after making sure it’s on the charger and ready to go, he heads for the door.
“Seriously, get lost in YouTube or something and you’ll feel better before you know it.”
I cave in and give him a small smile as he leaves.
I know I’m still going to be bored out of my mind after a few days of this, but there was one idea he suggested that I might actually be able to get interested in.
I’ve got hundreds and hundreds of photos saved on my laptop, and organising them into albums is something I’ve been meaning to do for years.
I’m clicking through the files when one of them jumps out at me.
It’s from my high school dance.
Violet
2009 (Sixteen years old)
“This isn’t the way home.”
Mum doesn’t speak but when I look over at her there’s a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
“Mum?”
“Mmmm?”
“This isn’t the way home,” I repeat.
“We’ve got to go meet your sister in town.”
“Urghhh,” I groan.
The only thing worse than the stress test I just endured is the idea of shopping with August – now that is a painful idea.
“Can you run me home? Please, Mum, I’m not in the mood for being dragged around five hundred shops looking for something in ‘the perfect shade of green’.” I mimic my sister’s voice as I complain.
August is seriously the most high maintenance shopper to ever walk the face of the earth and her ridiculous antics are not something I have the patience for right now.
“No can do, kiddo, we’re already running late. You’ll just have to deal with it.”
Mum seems to be taking great pleasure in my misery and I can’t help but think that this is payback for acting like a brat these past few days.
I groan again and rest my head against the window all the way to the shopping centre.
Shopping and I barely get along at the best of times, and right now I’m not feeling anywhere near the top of my game.
Apparently I’m not getting out of this one.
We walk past various stores, Mum striding with purpose and me dawdling as best I can manage.
Every so often she shoots me a death stare and I move a little faster.
It’s not until she slows down and stops that I realise she’s tricked me. Standing up outside a dress store called ‘Little Black Dress’ is Lucy and her mum.
The penny drops.
We’re not here for Auggie at all. We’re here for me.
We’re here to buy me a dress for the dance.
“That colour looks really pretty on you.”
I know August would probably rather be out with her friends than stuck here doing my hair and makeup, but I don’t think Mum gave her much of a choice in the matter.
Mum didn’t give me a lot of choice either.
I finally managed to convince Lucy to accept the invite from Jesse, with the intention that I wouldn’t go at all – but Mum wasn’t having it.
She’s normally the first one to encourage me to stay safely at home in front of my easel with a paint brush in my hand, but not this time.
It would seem that supervised, school-run events are my mother’s happy place.
“You think?” I reply to my big sister. I’ve never really thought of myself as ‘pretty’.
She nods her head. “Yeah, it really suits you.”
“I’m nervous, Auggie.”
She gently tugs on the long strands of my hair as she pulls them into the braid she’s creating.
“What, because of Tim?”
My stomach drops.
Of course she already knows all about my humiliation.
I don’t know what possessed me to think that anyone would want to go to the dance with me, let alone a guy like Tim.
He’s gorgeous, incredible at basketball and he plays the guitar. He might not be captain of the football team, but he’s still firmly a member of the ‘cool crowd’. I, on the other hand, am not even close.
“How’d you know about that?” I whisper. “The whole school knows, don’t they? Oh God… I’m not going…”
“Calm down, Vi, I’m friends with Reed, remember? He told me.”
Unlike me, my sister has a lot of friends – one of which happens to be Tim’s older brother.
If Tim told his brother, then it’s anybody’s guess who else he’s had a laugh about my stupidity with. This realisation only reinforces my desire to bail on this whole thing and stay home tucked up in my pyjamas.
I look at my reflection and I’m as white as a ghost, with eyes as wide as saucers.
“It’s not a big deal.” August catches my eye in the mirror.
“It feels like a pretty big deal to me.”
“You’re sixteen, Vi, this is the time where you meet your bridesmaids, not your groom.”
She does make a good point, as hypocritical as she might be.
“And besides, he only said no becau—”
I hold my hand out to silence her. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“Violet.” Her tone lets me know she thinks I’m being ridiculous, but I don’t care. My whole life has been this way – a series of disappointments, one after the other and tonight is bound to be no different.
“Just stop talking about it, please.”
“Fine, but you’re going. Even if I have to drag you there myself, got it?”
It feels as though all eyes are on me – like every laugh I hear is directed my way.
I know deep down it’s possible I’m being irrational. No one in this entire place has probably even noticed me come in, let alone united together to taunt me, but I can’t seem to entirely convince myself of this. In my head, they’re all making fun of me for turning up alone… for being the girl with the broken heart… for being different.
My breath is coming out in short sharp pants as I turn around and around, trying desperately to find Lucy, but I can’t see her anywhere. The panic is bubbling up inside me and I can feel it preparing to take total control of my body.
I should never have come here – I should have listened to my gut and not to my sister.
I spin around one more time, but it’s no use, the crowds of people have all blurred into one and I can’t make out individual faces any longer, no matter how hard I squint.
I clutch my chest and drag in a deep breath – my only thought now is to get out of here – to get far away from here so I can have my meltdown somewhere private.
I turn around, but before I can run away I collide with someone.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, are you okay?”
I look up and the sudden haze that was covering my eyes lifts.
The universe must really hate me today, because of all the people in this room, it has to be the very one that rejected me that I’ve crashed into.
“Sorry,” I squeak as I attempt to move around him.
It doesn’t work – he’s holding onto my shoulders, steadying me, and he doesn’t allow me to escape.
“Violet?” He looks at me like he’s not sure it’s really me. “Wow, you look…”
I wait for an insult to be hurled, but it doesn’t come.
“… you look beautiful.”
I stare up at him. I don’t know what to say to that – I’ve never had a compliment that feels so genuine and at the same time so unexpected.
He’s smiling down at me. His hands are motionless on my arms and I still haven’t come up with a single thing to say.
He probably owes me an explanation for turning me down in a text message, but I’m not sure I even care anymore. I just want to go home.
“Are you okay?” he repeats his earlier question.
I nod, although I’m still not sure why he’s here, talking to me.
“Where are you going in such a hurry?”
“Home.”
“But it’s just starting.”
I don’t reply to that – I don’t know what I could possibly say that won’t make me sound like more of a loser than he already thinks I am.
“You’re not leaving because of me, are you?” His voice sounds almost broken, not cocky or arrogant like I imagined it would in my head if we came face to face.
I don’t answer again. His hands drop from my arms and he dips his head in what looks like embarrassment.
“I’m really sorry, Violet.”
I don’t want to talk about this – certainly not with him, yet I can’t seem to make my feet or mouth move to do something about it. I’m stuck here frozen like a deer in headlights.
“I should have given you an explanation.”
“It’s okay,” I mumble.
“It’s not okay… I… I’m umm….”
I’m not sure where he’s heading with this, but it seems he has something he wants to get off his chest, so I wait for him to find the words he’s so desperately searching for.
“I’m gay.”
It comes out in a rush and his expression looks wary – like he’s worried I might say something horrible, like maybe I might be the one to hurl an insult.
“I haven’t told many people that.”
“That’s why you turned me down?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry.”
He didn’t turn me down because I’m a freak or a loser… he turned me down because he likes boys.
“Stop apologising.”
“Sorry,” he mumbles then winces when he realises he’s just done it again.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?”
He looks around and tilts his head in the direction of an empty table and chairs. He takes my arm and leads me over to sit.
The crowds of people around me don’t seem so threatening anymore as we move through them – my overactive imagination can be reasoned with now… no one is laughing at me.
“I know I should have, but I was embarrassed… I didn’t know what people would say or think.”
It’s weird – I don’t want someone else’s dilemma to make me feel better about my own, but whether I like it or not, it does a little bit.
Tim might not have a life-threatening condition like I do, but he’s fighting his own kind of battle, and it’s comforting to know I’m not the only one who’s worried about what other people might think of them. The reminder that I’m not the only person in school with personal stuff going on is gladly received.
“Well just for the record, I don’t think being gay is anything to be ashamed of.”
That gets a smile out of him.
“I really am sorry for turning you down. I like you, Violet, and I should have said yes. I just didn’t know how to explain that we could only be friends without spilling my secret or hurting your feelings… but I think I’ve managed to do both of those things anyway.”
I’m not going to lie to his face and tell him that I wasn’t hurt, because I was – but I also don’t want him to feel worse about what’s happened than he already does, because it’s not really his fault.
I wouldn’t normally confess this, but he’s just opened up to me in a way I wasn’t expecting, so I feel like I owe him the truth.
“I thought you said no because of my condition.”
He frowns at me. “What condition?”
“My heart?”
He stares at me for a few beats, his expression confused.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You know… I’m the weird heart kid…”
“I seriously have no idea what that means.”
“You really don’t know?”
He shrugs. “I literally couldn’t know less. You’re just Violet… you’re quiet and nice and really good at art.”
“Well…um… wow…”
He really doesn’t know.
This wasn’t about my heart or my health… this wasn’t about me at all. This was about something else entirely and the reality check that not everything is about me is a welcome one.
My Heart Needs (The Heart Duet Book 1) Page 9