An August Harvest

by Ben Marney

  “What about another donor?” Annabelle asked.

  Marshall looked at her with sad eyes. “I think we’re out of time.”

  Annabelle’s mother began to cry. “That poor girl, what’s going to happen to her daughter? She’ll be an orphan.”

  Grant stood up and looked at her. “If they’ll let me, I’m going to adopt her. But even if they won’t, I’m going to take care of her for the rest of her life.”

  Everyone stopped talking and the room grew silent and sad. Grant gave his chair to Brenda and sat on the edge of Annabelle’s bed.

  Grant looked at Marshall. “So what do we do now?”

  “Pray and wait, I guess,” Marshall said softly.

  “Can I ask you a medical question?” Annabelle asked.

  Marshall lifted his head and looked at her. “Sure.”

  “Does the donor have to die?”

  Marshall glanced at Grant. “Well, actually there is something called ‘living-donor transplants.’“

  “How does it work?” she asked, pulling herself up further in her bed.

  “A portion, about two thirds, of the living, healthy donor’s liver is removed and given to the recipient patient. The liver is one of the few organs in the human body that will regenerate. The portion that is removed from the healthy donor will grow back to the original size in a few months and the same will happen to the recipient.”

  “So are you saying I could give Melissa part of my liver?” Annabelle said. “I’m the same blood type, right? What are we waiting for?”

  Marshall held up his hands. “Hold on! I said ‘healthy living donor.’ You almost died three days ago. You are in no condition to be donating anything. Your body is not strong enough to handle the stress. Even if the donor is in perfect physical condition, which you are not, there is serious risk with this kind of surgery. I’m sorry, Annabelle, but you could die.”

  She looked around the room at her parents. “Melissa saved my life. If she hadn’t given me her blood in that ambulance, I would have bled to death.”

  They both looked back at her. “We know,” her father said, “and we understand why you want to help her, but you’re not strong enough to do it.”

  “Neither was she. She was barely alive, but she insisted they take her blood to save me.” She threw back her sheet and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Then she slid off the bed and stood. “I know I may not be in perfect condition, but I can’t just let her die. I’m standing here because of her. She saved my life and now I have a chance to save hers.”

  On unsteady legs, she slowly walked up to Grant. “Don’t you understand? I have to do this.”

  Grant took her hand and led her back to her bed. “I understand why you think you have to do this, but I also know that Melissa wouldn’t want you to do it. It’s just too much of a risk.”

  She turned and looked at Drake. “What would you do?”

  He thought for a long time before he answered. “Annabelle, I don’t want you to do this. I just got you back in my life and...well, I don’t know where this might lead, but I’ve been dreaming about having another chance with you for years. And when I thought you might die...I wanted to die, too. I was devastated, so absolutely not, I don’t want you to do it.”

  He walked to her bed and took her hand in his. “But that wasn’t your question, was it? You asked what ‘I’ would do and I have to be honest. If someone saved my life and I had the chance to save theirs...I would do it. No matter what the risk.”

  Annabelle smiled at him. Then she turned her head and looked at Marshall. “Will you do the surgeries?”

  “I wish you would listen to me. If you do this, you could die,” Marshall argued. “Your body is still trying to heal from the gunshot wounds. You are too weak to survive this kind of surgery.”

  “I realize that,” she said softly, “but I have no choice. I have to at least try.”

  He sighed deeply. “Transplants are not my specialty, so if you do this, no, I won’t be the one doing the surgeries.”

  “But you’ll be there, right? Just in case something goes wrong?” she asked.

  Yes,” he said, “I can be there as an observer if you want me to...but if something goes wrong...there won’t be much I can do.”

  31

  A Promise To Melissa

  The next morning, Grant sat silent and stoic between Annabelle’s parents, holding their hands as they watched the medical team wheel her out of the room on her way to surgery. They had already said their goodbyes, crying and telling her how much they loved her, but when they wheeled her out, her mother burst out crying again, but her father held it back.

  “If it’s okay with you,” Drake said, “I would like to wait this out in the chapel.” He held out his hand. “Mrs. Douglas, would you like to join me?”

  With his arm around her shoulders, Drake and Sue slowly walked down the hall to the chapel, while Grant and her father followed close behind.

  When they got there and walked in, they didn’t sit in a group. Sue and Albert sat holding hands a few rows back from the pulpit on the right side, Drake sat alone on the front row on the left, and Grant sat in the last row by the door. No one talked. They just sat there, silently praying to themselves.

  Grant kept checking his watch, but time seemed to have stopped. After a few hours, he couldn’t take it any longer, so he left them there and walked to the surgery waiting room. When someone would walk out of the double doors, he would jump up and ask if they knew how the transplant was going, but none of them seemed to know anything.

  The transplant surgery was going well. Although Melissa was barely alive by the time they got her to the table, she remained stable throughout the long surgery. Annabelle’s body was weak, but she sustained the trauma as well.

  The five-hour simultaneous surgeries took place in two different surgical theaters and everything went as planned.

  Standing as close as possible without being in the way of the surgical team, Marshall first observed the removal of Melissa’s damaged, shriveled liver. Then he walked to the other theater and watched the precision of the surgeon as he dissected Annabel’s healthy liver. He removed two thirds of it and carefully laid it on a tray, and then went back and skillfully began closing her wound. To close the final layer of skin, Marshall had called in the best plastic surgeon he knew to do it. It took him longer, which added a slight more risk to the operation, but because of his expertise, in a few years Annabelle and Melissa’s scars would be virtually invisible. When it was over, he scanned the machines displaying her vitals before he walked back to the other theater to watch the final process of attaching the loaf of Annabelle’s liver into Melissa’s body.

  When the plastic surgeon had finished closing up Melissa’s wound, everyone stood silently, holding their breath, watching the video monitors.

  Marshall had told him if it went well it shouldn’t take more than four hours. So as hour four approached, Grant grew more and more anxious and fearful. He wanted to leave, maybe go for a run to calm his nerves, but he was afraid he wouldn’t be there when it was over, so he just paced the room instead. After five hours, forty-five minutes, he knew something had to be wrong, so he walked back to the small chapel to be there with Annabelle’s parents when the bad news eventually came.

  Marshall was standing next to Melissa, holding her hand, when he heard the alarm go off in the other theater. When he rushed into the room, he saw the flat line scrolling across the screen.

  “Clear!” the surgeon yelled, pressing the two paddles against Annabelle’s chest. When the current hit her, her entire body lurched upward. Marshall stared at the screen, but there was no blip.

  “Clear!” the surgeon yelled, trying once more. Again, he saw Annabelle’s body jerk upward, but the flat line continued rolling across the screen. On their third try without success, Marshall’s heart sunk in his chest and he began to pray. When he heard the second alarm go off, he lifted his head and began searching the monitors to see what it was.
When he heard the third one, he realized that it was coming from the other room.

  He rushed back to Melissa’s theater in time to see the surgeon make the incision on her chest. He watched them cut her breast bone and spread her ribs wide, allowing the surgeon room to reach in and start massaging her heart with his hands.

  His first instinct was to push everyone out of the way and do it himself, but he fought it back. Instead, he just stood there and watched in horror.

  “Clear!” He heard the surgeon yell again from Annabelle’s side. There was nothing he could do for Melissa, so he walked back to Annabelle and stared up at the flat line that was still rolling across the screen.

  “Two forty five, Doctor!” He heard a nurse yell. The surgeon looked up, made eye contact with him and shook his head.

  “Again!” Marshall yelled. “Do it again!” On the sixth attempt with no pulse, he knew it was over and his worst fears had come true...they had lost them both.

  He checked his watch, and although both teams were still frantically trying to revive them, he knew too much time had passed. He untied his mask, pulled it off his face and slowly walked out of the double doors. He looked around the waiting room, but no one was there. On the elevator he punched the ground floor button and rode it down to the lobby. When he reached the door of the chapel, he stopped and took several deep breaths to clear his head. “How do I tell them this?” he whispered.

  When he opened the doors and saw them looking at him, he froze and his mind went blank. He tried to say something, but he couldn’t make a sound. Overcome with emotions, he walked to the front, fell on his knees and began to pray.

  A few minutes later, the chapel doors opened and a nurse rushed in and ran up to him. Whispering in his ear, she said, “We have a pulse.”

  He jumped up and ran back to the elevator. When he got there, he couldn’t believe his eyes. Miraculously, they had both been revived and were still alive.

  When he walked out of surgery through the double doors this time, they were all there in the small waiting room. No one spoke, but they all stared up at him with fear in their eyes.

  He pulled the blue surgical hat off his head and said, “It’s been touch and go. They’ve both had serious complications and I can’t really explain why, but they are alive.”

  “Thank God,” Sue cried, hugging Albert.

  Marshall looked into Grant’s worried eyes and put his hand on his shoulder. “It was pretty rough and we’re not out of the woods yet. The next forty-eight hours will be critical.”

  Over the next two days, Marshall kept a close watch on them. Annabelle, for the second time in her life, had made an amazing recovery. She seemed to grow stronger with each passing hour and was soon strong enough to receive visitors. Unfortunately, Melissa’s recovery had not gone as well. Although her new liver was functioning properly, her vital signs were not improving.

  Dressed in green sterile hospital scrubs, including the hat, mask and latex gloves, Grant walked up to her bed and took her hand in his. The greenish yellow tint of her skin was still there, but had faded slightly. She had lost even more weight and looked like a small child lying there.

  “She is showing active brain waves,” Marshall said softly, “but I have to be honest…it’s not good. Her oxygen levels are falling.”

  Grant looked down and gently touched her cheek with his gloved hand. “I wish I could see her face. Does she still need the respirator?”

  “Yes, she’s not breathing completely on her own. For now, it’s keeping her alive.”

  For almost an hour, Grant stood there, holding her hand, looking at her. Then he bent down, kissed her forehead and walked to the lobby. Rob was sitting in the waiting room.

  “Hey Rob, thanks for coming,” Grant said.

  Rob shook his hand. “How’s Melissa doing?”

  “Not so good,” he said. “She flatlined after the surgery, I guess her heart couldn’t handle the stress of the transplant. The surgeon had to crack her chest and manually massage her heart to revive her. We almost lost her.”

  “Could I see her?” he asked. “I really need to see her.”

  “Sure. I’ll take you back.”

  They walked to the elevator and Grant punched the button. “Grant, after I see her, would it be possible to meet with you and her doctor for a few moments?” Rob asked. “We need to talk about something. It’s important.”

  Rob spent thirty minutes with Melissa, then walked to the coffee shop to meet Marshall and Grant.

  “So, what did you want to talk about?” Marshall asked him, sipping his coffee. “Grant said it was important.”

  “It is,” he said, reaching into his coat pocket. He pulled out some papers and laid them on the table. “I really don’t want to do this, but I have no choice. I promised Melissa.”

  Grant frowned and tilted his head. “Promised her what?”

  He sighed and flattened the papers on the table with his hand. “Melissa was having a reoccurring dream. I know this will sound a bit strange to you, but I believe she somehow knew this was going to happen.” He looked at Grant. “Remember when I told you she had come to me a few weeks before Jerry kidnapped her and changed her will?”

  “Yes, I remember,” he said.

  Rob leaned forward in his chair and took a deep breath. “When she was there, she asked me to do one more thing for her. She had me draft this DNR.”

  He handed the papers to Marshall. He read them slowly, then handed them over to Grant.

  “I only have one question,” he frowned and looked at Marshall. “Is she being kept alive by machines?”

  Marshall dropped his head and said. “I can’t answer that. We won’t know until we disconnect the respirator. When that happens, she will either continue breathing on her own or…” He didn’t finish his sentence.

  Rob sighed, leaned back and ran his hand through his hair. “That’s what I thought and I hate this, but she was very specific. She did not want to be kept alive by a machine. I promised her, if that ever happened, I would force the hospital to take her off life support.”

  Drake helped Annabelle out of the wheelchair and held her hand while she said goodbye to Melissa. Next was Annabelle’s parents, who thanked her for saving their daughter’s life. Then Connie and Wilson took turns kissing her gently on her cheeks and telling her how much they loved her. Rob could barely stand and couldn’t seem to stop telling her over and over how sorry he was, but he was just doing what she had asked him to do. He was a complete wreck.

  After everyone had left the room, Brenda and Grant brought Molly in and stood next to her, trying not to cry as they listened and watched.

  Grant had been honest with her and told her everything, explained to her how her mother looked and let her know that if she didn’t want to see her that way, everyone would understand, but Molly wanted to tell her goodbye.

  They had no idea how she would react, but she was incredibly brave when she walked up, stood next to her mother’s bed and took her hand, trying her best not to cry. “I love you, Mommy,” she said. “I wish you didn’t have to die, but Mr. Grant said you were going to go to heaven and would be real happy there, so I guess it’s okay, but I’m sure gonna miss you.” Molly looked back at Grant. “Can she hear me?”

  He nodded. “I don’t know honey, but I think so.”

  She held out her hands. “Would you lift me up?”

  Grant picked her up and held her close to her mother’s face. She kissed her on the cheek. “Goodbye, mommy,” she whispered, finally breaking down and crying. “I promise that I will never, ever forget you.”

  It was the saddest thing Grant had ever witnessed, and his heart broke hearing Molly cry so hard, but he knew that some day when she was older, she would be glad she had been able to say those final words to her mother.

  After everyone left and it was just Grant in the room, Marshall walked in, put his arm around his shoulders and said, “I’ve got it from here, old friend.”

  “No.” Gran
t said, “I want to be here when she crosses over. Not being there with Rita has been one of the biggest regrets in my life. So no, I’m staying.”

  Grant took her hand in his and squeezed it. “We’re ready,” he whispered.

  “You don’t need the gloves,” Marshall said, motioning toward his hands. “It’s okay to touch her.”

  Grant slipped off the latex gloves and took her right hand in both of his. He was hoping that when their skin touched he would feel the shock run through his body, but there was none. He looked over at Marshall with sad eyes. “I guess she was right all along.”

  Marshall lowered his brow. “Right about what?”

  “The shocks. They’re gone. She always believed they came from Rita, not her.”

  The nurse removed the tube from her mouth, cleaned her face and backed away. Grant leaned down and gently kissed her on the lips. “I don’t care where they came from…I’ve loved you since that first touch.” He kissed her one last time and leaned back. Squeezing her hand, with tears rolling off his chin, he stood there silently…waiting.

  32

  Sir Charles III

  To prepare me, Marshal had explained that when someone is taken off life support, usually because they are brain dead or terminally ill, one of two things will happen. They will die, or their bodies will stabilize and they will live. In the best-case scenario, if their bodies stabilize, the patient eventually wakes up, gets better and resumes their life. In the worst case, they don’t wake up and remain in a coma. This coma can be the results of many things and last for weeks, months and in some cases…years.

  When they removed the endotracheal tube from Melissa’s throat and turned off the respirator, she did not die as everyone had expected. Instead, she began breathing slowly on her own and her oxygen level began to rise. Her heart rate, although slow at first, increased steadily and within twenty-four hours, all of her vitals were at life sustaining positions. But unfortunately, she did not wake up.