With This Heart(7)

That’s the sort of awkward I am. I would rather proceed with a ridiculous lie than make either one of us endure one of humanity’s pained moments.



The phone buzzed once more in my hand and I swiped my finger to answer it. Oh, right.

“ Hey Caroline.”

“ Hi Abby.”

She sounded tired like she always did lately.

“ How’s life over at Methodist?” That was the hospital where most of the sick kids I knew received treatment. I met Caroline there when we were both suffering through an extended stay a few years ago. We were on the donor waiting list at the time. Obviously, I wasn’t on that list anymore. Caroline still was. She needed a transplant because she had a rare form of liver cancer that had originated as intrahepatic bile duct cancer. She was on the donor list, but they don’t give new livers to patients that still have cancer. There are too many people who need them that are cancer-free.

So Caroline was too sick to be cured and too sick to get a new liver. She was the biggest reason I had a problem with the whole fairness-of-life thing.

“ Same ol’, same ol’. My parents are both working to keep up with the bills, so it gets pretty boring during the day,” she answered,

“ Are you having to go to any groups?”

“ I told my mother that they depressed me and she said I didn’t have to go anymore.”

I frowned, thinking back to how boring and sad those groups had been. “Yeah, I agree. I have a book I need to lend you. It has tons of steamy romance.” I hopped off my bed to start a collection of books to take to her soon. There was already a bag sitting by my desk, so I picked up various books off my shelves and started stuffing them inside.

“ Oh good,” she answered. “I’ve been swapping between TV and books.”

“ Same.”

“ Did you finish getting your GED?”

Right before the transplant, when the prospect of me continuing to exist as a human looked pretty slim, my parents became lenient about school. As soon as I was healthy enough post-transplant, I started studying for the GED so I could start to become an actual member of society and not just a sick person. It’s a strange concept, considering for so many years I tried to push thoughts of the future out of my mind. It was too painful to consider the possibilities of a future career when the odds of reaching my nineteenth birthday were less than likely.

“ Yeah like a week or two ago. I should have invited you to my graduation.”

She laughed, a sad little laugh. “You had a graduation?”

“ My mom and dad made this giant deal of it. They ordered a cake. Oh, and they printed out my certificate and had it placed in this extravagant gold frame.”

“ Where is it now?”

“ Behind my door in my bedroom. It’s pretty ugly, but I told them I would hang it up soon.”

A part of my brain warned me to walk on eggshells, that I was being insensitive to Caroline, complaining of things like ugly framed diplomas, when she would never get one of her own. However, a bigger part of me remembered that she was my best friend and if I couldn’t be honest with her then we had nothing left.

“ When do you get to come home, Caro?” I asked.

“ Soon I hope. Maybe this week.”

“ That’s awesome.” I tried to have genuine hope in my voice, but it was hard when I knew that she was going home with cancer still in tow.

“ My mom has me going to some career counselor tomorrow,” I began, hoping the situation would make her laugh, “but I’ll stop by after that and if you’re out by Wednesday, let’s get coffee somewhere. We’ve never done that before. Y’know, just sitting somewhere and chatting about real-life guys… not just movie stars.”

I could hear her smile through the phone when she replied, “We’d have to actually meet them before we did that.”

“ I’m working on it…” I murmured.

“ Alright, I’ll see you then.”

“ Bye, Caroline.”

…



Precisely thirty minutes before my counseling session, Mom picked me up in her fancy silver SUV. I slid onto the cool cream leather, and she gave me one of her isn’t-life-grand smiles. My dad made enough at his job so that we never had to worry about medical bills, which in turn allowed my mom to devote every ounce of her spare time in the past nineteen years to making sure I was happy and healthy.

“ Mom, thanks for picking me up and coming with me today.”

A smile spread across her face and I knew it was the right thing to say. Sometimes I got so lost in the cynical side of life that remembering to feel extremely freaking lucky about certain things just slipped through the cracks.

Oh yeah, I should apologize in advance. If you’re reading this because you thought I was inherently selfless, you might want to turn back now. Most of my worldly knowledge comes from quotes from famous books, minimally acclaimed documentaries, and Reddit.

We drove downtown to a shiny new medical complex. I’d never been to any sort of counseling, but I’d looked Dr. Lucas up last night and she seemed to know her stuff. The little plaque beneath her office read: “Dr. Patricia Lucas: Life Coach, Career Counselor”.


I was still mulling over that bit of information when we strolled into the waiting room. Above the shiny granite check-in desk, there was a massive stenciled quote: “ Clear your mind of can’t ”. I tried to do just that, but nothing really happened. I shifted in my Keds awkwardly before taking a seat. I wasn’t quite sure what it really meant, because it wasn’t as if I had a dream to be an astronaut and I was sitting around thinking: “Now, Abby, you know you have to have perfect vision for that job and you only have 20/50…so you CAN’T be an astronaut”. Having a career goal in life would have been a luxury for me. Every time I tried to think about the future, I felt an overwhelming pressure in my chest. How could I make a career decision when there were so many people depending on me to do something noble with my second chance at life?