Authors: Karen Harter
I nodded.
Dr. Sovold helped me out of bed. “I’d like you to take a walk down the hall. Can you do that for me?”
I felt a little shaky. “Did you guys put something in my IV?”
The doctor smiled. “Just something to help you sleep. It should be just about out of your system now. Give me a good walk
around the hall now, and when you get back your nurse is going to take some blood.”
When I returned from my journey, I was hungry. Christopher took blood from my arm. I had seen food trays going into other
rooms, but Chris said I would have to eat later. We had to do some more tests.
“Can’t it wait until after my veal and mashed potatoes? I know that’s what we’re having because I saw it—and I still want
it. That’s how hungry I am.”
“Trust me,” he said. “You do not want to eat on veal day.” He ran me through the tests, which seemed to go faster than usual,
and then wheeled me back to my room.
Dr. Sovold met us there, pretending to be jovial but coming off a little anxious. “You’re looking more awake now. Are you
feeling good?”
“Good?” I shrugged. “I wouldn’t go that far, but I’m better. Except I missed lunch.” I shot Christopher an accusing glare,
which made him chuckle.
Dr. Sovold perused my test results one more time before placing the clipboard at the foot of my bed. He leaned toward me.
“You need to have an empty stomach to go into surgery.”
“What surgery?”
“We may have a donor, Samantha.” I sat up straight. “There is an accident victim with type AB blood that may be a match. That’s
why we had to run the tests on you again. I think you’re strong enough to undergo the surgery. What do you think? Are you
strong enough?”
If I wasn’t, I would have to lie. This was it. A chance—maybe my only chance for survival. I would take it no matter what.
“I’m ready.”
“Your family has been informed. They’re having a hard time getting here because of the snow. They’ve been stuck in Darlington
for hours. We may have to go before they can get here, Samantha. Can you handle that?”
Tears came instantly to my eyes. I swallowed and nodded. “But I need to talk to TJ first.”
Christopher jumped up. “Let me see what I can do.” He left the room.
“What happened? Is it a woman or . . .”
The doctor shook his head. “You know we can’t tell you that. Now, this is not a sure thing yet. The donor heart is in another
city. The transplant team is flying there now. Once the heart is harvested we’ll know if it’s an acceptable match. Then, of
course, time will be of the essence. We’ll have a matter of a few hours to transport it and get it up and running again, inside
you.” Dr. Sovold smiled reassuringly. “I think this is going to work, Samantha. We’re all proceeding accordingly. We’re a
team, remember? Everyone from your nurses on up to Dr. Wilhelm, who will be performing the surgery, we’re all pulling for
you. I think this is your big day.” He started to leave and then turned back. “If by some chance this is not the one, we’ll
deal with that too. Right?”
“Right,” I said. “Is it still snowing?”
“It’s clearing up. The pilot is good. He’s flown in worse weather than this. Now rest for a little bit. I’ll be back.”
I settled onto the bed, my mind whirling. It was happening. It was really happening. “Oh, God. Dear God. Let it be a match.”
Immediately I felt guilty. “I’m sorry about those other people, whose . . . person died.” I pictured them wailing in disbelief
over their loved one’s body and then silently watching it wheeled away from them to the operating room. “Help them. Help me.”
My father said that for everyone there is a time to live and a time to die. He said the secret to happiness is to live without
fear and to die the same. “When you know God, you will understand this. You will know that this life is only the beginning.
He has greater plans for you than your finite mind can imagine.” I hoped that the dead person knew God.
It occurred to me that I should set things straight myself, just in case. At preschool, TJ had colored a picture of Jesus
gathering children around him. The caption underneath read
God is Love.
I tried to imagine God loving me, but it was hard. I kept my eyes closed, and since I couldn’t really imagine God, I saw myself
snuggled next to my father in the barn. I pretended that it was God holding me. Talking to me about my hopes and dreams. Knowing
everything there was to know about me and loving me just the same. “I’m sorry about my sins,” I whispered. “I know I’ve been
a big disappointment to You. Please forgive me.” I faltered with those words. The last time I made that request of someone,
I had been shot down. My sin had been too gross to forgive. “I don’t want to die. Please get me through this . . . and help
me change.”
The ringing of the telephone by my bed startled me. “Hello.”
“Sammy.”
“Mom!” I began to cry. “Where are you? I’m getting a heart. I’m about to go into surgery.”
“I know, we heard. We’re coming, honey.”
“I’m all by myself here. What happened to you guys?”
“I’ll tell you all about it when I get there.” I thought she was crying too. “We’re coming as soon as we can. You be strong,
Samantha Jean. I’m praying for you to be strong.” Now she sobbed openly. “I’m not crying because I’m afraid. Do you understand
that? I just want to be there with you. This is what we’ve been waiting for, isn’t it, Sammy?”
“I love you, Mom.”
She didn’t answer. I thought I heard Lindsey’s voice in the background. “Mom?”
“Sam, this is David. How ya doin’? We’re about to lose you here. This is a bad cell zone. We’re on our . . . sorry about the
. . . if . . .”
“You’re breaking up. Just get here.” The phone went dead and I replaced the receiver.
Christopher returned to my bedside. “Okay. I’ve got a line on your son. Here’s the phone number where he’s staying.” I recognized
the number immediately. I had dialed it almost every day when Donnie and I used to play together. “I’ll punch it in for you.”
He waited until it rang. “Hello. This is Samantha Dodd’s nurse. Is TJ there?” I reached for the phone.
“Teej?”
“Mommy!”
“What are you doing, baby? Is Donnie with you?”
“No. Just Donnie’s grandma.”
“You mean his mother.”
“Why did you go back to the hospital? We were s’pose to have Christmas. But when I waked up I was here.”
“I’m sorry, Teej. I didn’t mean to get sick again. I just got real sick and they had to take me back here. But I have good
news. I think they found me a new heart! I’ll probably be all better soon.”
“Oh.” He dropped the phone.
“TJ?”
“Mommy.” His voice was so tiny and sweet and now I heard sniffles. “I want to go home. Please. Just you and me and Grandpa
and Grandma. And Donnie and Aunt Lindsey. I have a present for you under the Christmas tree. I made it.”
“Ooh. I wish I could have it right now. Mostly I wish I could have a hug from you right now.” Christopher passed me a box
of tissues. “TJ, we’ll have Christmas, just a little late, that’s all. We’ll all—” I stopped myself. I couldn’t bear to disappoint
him again. I couldn’t make any more promises that I might not be able to keep. “You can open your presents soon, okay? TJ?”
I barely heard his response. “Hold the phone up to your mouth, baby.”
“When is Donnie coming back? I don’t even have my slingshot here.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know where he went. I want to ask you something, Teej. Can you hear me? Good. Do you know your aunt
Lindsey loves you? And David too. Do you know that?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Do you love them?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re a lucky boy. You have a big family now. It’s not just you and me anymore. You have Grandpa and Grandma—lots of people
to love you.”
“But I should prob’ly have a dog. Leon has a dog
and
a cat. But cats are scratchy. I just want a dog.”
“What kind of dog?”
I knew exactly what his little face was doing. His fat lower lip was jutted out and he was looking skyward with squinty eyes.
“Mmm . . . a fluffy one with fast legs. And a happy face.”
Dr. Sovold was back, along with two other doctors. A nurse wheeled in a tray with syringes and pills on it.
“I have to go, sweetie.” I longed to pull him through the phone, to bury my nose in his hair and touch his perfect skin. “I’m
going to have an operation now. I love you, TJ. I love you, baby.”
I rolled my face into the pillow and had a good cry. Christopher rubbed my back gently. “Are you okay now?” he asked after
a respectable silence. I wiped my face on the sheet and nodded.
Dr. Wilhelm, the transplant surgeon, stood with his arms folded across his chest and smiled patiently down at me. “It looks
like we’ve got a match, Samantha.”
I managed a weak smile. “That’s good. Great. Okay, let’s get this over with.”
I took a pill to discourage my T cells from attacking the foreign tissue while Dr. Wilhelm described the horrible things they
were about to do to me. A catheter would be shot through my heart to measure pressure in the chambers; an echocardiogram transducer
would be slipped down my esophagus so they could view my heart on the monitor. The donor heart had been cut out of the brain-dead
body and was flying here by chopper in a beer cooler. It was time to get ready. They would have my chest sawed open and ready
before the cooler hit the elevator. My sluggish old heart would be cut out while a machine took over, pumping blood and breathing
for me, the new heart inserted and attached one blood vessel at a time.
“This is going to help you relax,” Dr. Sovold said as he slid a needle into the IV receptor they had attached to the back
of my hand. “Relaxed and sleepy. Let’s just let that kick in, and then we’ll wheel you on down to OR.”
Christopher opened my curtains so I could see the smoky gray afternoon sky. Other families were sitting down to Christmas
dinners now. I wondered if the hospital staff resented being here today. I watched their faces for clues as they came and
went but couldn’t tell if their quiet intensity was due to the seriousness of the pending operation, or if in their minds
they were back home where music played and candles burned. I should have mentioned to them in the beginning that my timing
was usually off.
My own family should have been gathering around a ham and sweet potatoes dinner right then instead of fighting their way out
of a blizzard to be by my side. Was it just yesterday that Lindsey and I rolled out potato lefse, the Judge teasing me as
he passed through the kitchen about the flour in my hair? My sister and I imitated the nasal voice of our high school gym
teacher until we laughed too hard to function. It occurred to me that Lindsey—my annoyingly perfect almost-twin—had become
my best friend. How could my thinking have become so twisted that I thought I didn’t need them? I longed to see their faces
now, every one of them—Mom, Dad, even David—radiant with the reflections of candlelight and love that we had shared the night
before.
All too soon the doctor said it was time to go.
“Can we wait just a little longer for my family to get here?”
“We’ve got a healthy heart on the way, Samantha. Good tissue match, good size. We need to have that pumping in you within
a few hours. Dr. Tyler’s going to hook you up to his magic formula, you’ll shut your eyes and when you open them again you’ll
see your family. It’ll be like blinking. Poof! And there they are.”
“Poof!” I liked the sound of that. “Poof!”
“It’s working already,” I heard someone say.
They were wheeling me out when Donnie came. He shouted from the elevator. “Wait!”
I rolled my face to the side and smiled. “Hi, Donnie.”
He ran to my side. “Sam. I’m sorry. I tried to get here sooner. Are you . . . well, I guess you’re going into . . . Hey, buddy!
Can you slow down a little?”
“Ooh. Donnie’s cranky.”
He glanced at Christopher, who grinned and nodded. “She’s feeling a little happy.”
“Sammy. I’ll be here when you wake up,” Donnie said. “You’re going to be fine.”
“Maybe.” I yawned. “If not, you’ve got a backup.”
“Backup? What do you mean?”
“You know. Rachel. Plan B. Or maybe she’s plan A and I’m plan B. Which is it, pray tell? Door number one or door number two?
I have to warn you. Behind one of the doors is a woman with a big ugly scar across her chest.”
We arrived at the swinging doors to the OR. Donnie blocked the door and leaned into my face. “Do you really care which door
I pick, Sam? Tell me. Do you love me, Sam?”
“I’m sorry,” Christopher interjected. “I hate to interrupt, but you can’t come in here, and we’ve got to keep moving.” Donnie
stepped aside and the doors parted. The gurney pushed through.
I couldn’t see him anymore. “Donnie!” I tried to shout, but my words floated out like vapor off a hot roof. “Yes. I do. I
love you!” The doors closed. “Isn’t that amazing, Christopher?” I yawned. “I think he loves me too.”
The blue people with white masks laughed and cheered.
I
N AND OUT OF consciousness, in and out of the light. Voices were real and then they were a dream. I was Moby-Dick, harpooned
and helplessly bound with ropes, rolling, nauseous, at the mercy of the waves. Finally, my eyes opened and focused on a middle-aged
nurse with boy-cut hair. “Hello, Samantha.” I could only blink. A tube had been shoved down my throat; hoses ran from my nose,
my arm. I moved one hand slowly toward my chest. The tiny nurse beckoned to someone behind her. Dr. Sovold appeared, towering
over her. He grinned. That was a good sign.
“Well?” I tried to say. It came out as a pathetic moan. I felt bandages, tubes, something hard.
“That’s your pacemaker,” the doctor explained. “They had to cut some nerves that regulate your heart rate. You’ll need to
wear that for a while.”
I rolled my head to one side. Machines, wires and tubes all around me. There was a dull pain in my chest and the thing in
my throat made me want to gag.
“How are you feeling, Sam?” Dr. Sovold asked.
I blinked. In Morse code, it was not a nice answer.