The Other Side of Tomorrow

In May 2017, at twenty-three years old, I got some of the worst news imaginable. I walked into an emergency room thinking there was something wrong with my gallbladder and learned my kidneys had shut down. I was literally dying. It was a shock to me to hear the words, “Don’t worry, you’re not going to die,” since it hadn’t even crossed my mind that I was dying. I later found out I had hours left to live and it was a miracle I came when I did.

The next few days, even months were a whirlwind as my whole life changed forever.

Dialysis is not easy. It’s so incredibly hard on your body and so tiring.

When I was in the hospital, Willa’s story came to me. It kept nagging at me to write it, but I wanted to wait until I had a transplant so I could describe that part accurately too, but Willa was insistent and kept reminding me this was her story not mine.

While there is a large amount of myself represented in the following pages, it is very much Willa’s story. Maybe one day I’ll write a non-fiction journal type story chronicling my own journey, but for now, there’s this. If it helps give hope to one person who’s on dialysis waiting for a transplant it’s worth it.

I also want to thank Willa for giving me the strength to switch to peritoneal dialysis. It’s something I contemplated months before writing this book to do myself, but I kept hoping transplant would happen. Every week that went by with no news, the more I considered switching. Hemodialysis is extremely tiring on the body and hard on the heart. I want to believe I’m going to live a long life post-transplant, and I want to do everything I can to ensure that.

Thanks, Willa. I think you saved my life.

—Micalea

Life can change in an instant…

For Willa Hansen, this statement couldn’t be truer. One minute she was a seemingly normal fourteen-year-old, and the next, her life was turned upside down with only a few words. Three years later, she’s receiving a kidney transplant and can start living again, only now she’s not sure she knows how.

Life can end in a moment…

Jasper Werth knows this all too well, seeing as a drunk driver killed his little brother. He’s always been a carefree guy, never taking life too seriously, but losing his brother is a major blow, and he finds himself lost until Willa walks into his life.

Life can mend the most broken parts of our souls…

Willa and Jasper couldn’t be more opposite, but as fate brings them together they’ll learn maybe they’re not so different after all.nbsp;

Sometimes what you need comes in a package you least expect.nbsp;

I blink up at the sky. It’s bright—too bright—and I shouldn’t be staring at it, but it reminds me that I’m alive.

I’m still here.

I’m still breathing.

Nothing will knock me down.

I am strong. I am resilient. I will make it through this.

I’ve repeated this mantra several times a day since I was fourteen.

I remember the day so clearly that everything changed. I’d been sick for weeks, longer, really, but only then did everything come crashing down. The weakness was overwhelming. I could barely place one foot on the floor. My mom had been worried, I knew, but I kept making excuses—I’d been practicing dance too hard, school was exhausting; on and on, I blamed everything else. It was easier that way.

Until it wasn’t.

I was at the bowling alley with my friends when I collapsed.

One minute I was upright, forcing a smile, trying not to think about how tired I felt, and the next I was on the ground. I didn’t open my eyes until I was being loaded into an ambulance.

The horrified gazes of my friends are something I’ll never forget.

The ten-minute ride to the hospital seemed endless.

“What’s wrong with me?” I asked over and over, but no one could tell me anything.

“Keep that on,” one paramedic scolded, putting the oxygen mask back on my face. I hadn’t even realized I’d removed it.

We arrived at the emergency room and they wheeled me back into a room.

My parents were already at the hospital waiting, one of my friends having called them, and they followed the paramedics as I was wheeled back, hospital visitor badges clipped to their shirts.

“Oh, Willa,” my mom cried, trying to hug me as the paramedics wheeled me down the hall.

I was put into a room and helped into a gown and ugly blue socks—which was mighty embarrassing as I insisted I could change myself, but since I fainted they wouldn’t let me.

When the doctor came to see me, I immediately blurted, “I’m not sick. I don’t know why I’m here. I’m tired, that’s all.”

The doctor paused, raised a brow, his lips twitching with the threat of a smile. “How about you let me determine that, okay?”

I sighed but nodded. My mom and dad huddled in the corner, her with her hands clasped at her chin, with him rubbing her shoulders.

“You look awfully pale,” the doctor remarked. “Stick out your tongue.”

I did.

“Mhmm.”

“What? What does that mean?” my mom burst out.

“Nothing yet,” the doctor waved away her concern. “I need to listen to your heart and lungs; can you sit up a bit?” he asked me.

I did as he asked, feeling like this was all completely stupid.

He continued to cluck his tongue as he checked my ankles. Finally, he said he was ordering blood work and left.

It didn’t take long for someone to come to take my blood, and after that, we sat waiting.

This all felt so silly to me.

I was fine, my blood work would be fine, and then they’d send me home.

But that’s not what happened.

The doctor appeared in the doorway of the room. There was something different in his eyes, not quite sad but almost. Maybe he looked a little surprised too.

He cleared his throat and walked over to the stool, sitting down.

My parents stood at my side, waiting for what he had to say.

He didn’t look at them. He looked at me. Straight in my eyes as he delivered the news.