“In your already weakened state, the risk would be too high.”
Wait. What?
“What risk?”
The source of my problems starts to beat faster in my chest, and I get a feeling I’m not going to like what he says next.
“Due to the already weakened state of your heart, you will not survive heart surgery.”
I stare at the man, not understanding what he’s saying.
“Repeat what you just said,” I whisper.
“Mr. Reed,” he says, giving me a sympathetic look, “to remove the fragments from where they are embedded in your heart is a high-risk operation. Your heart will stop with such a strenuous surgery. The tissue surrounding the fragments are dying. Your heart is being poisoned by the fragments. At this stage, your body is still physically able to survive the operation, but your heart is not.”
I sit frozen, unable to form words.
Finally, I manage to whisper, “My heart is dying?”
“Yes, Mr. Reed. With treatment, we will be able to prolong your life by a few weeks. I’m sorry.”
I have so many questions, but instead of asking them I can only nod as he keeps talking, while my world implodes.
888
I flush the toilet and sag down on the floor. Resting my arms on my knees, I lean my head back against the side of the bathtub.
I’m supposed to get ready for my first date with Willow.
Today was supposed to be one of the happiest of my life.
I’m only twenty-six.
Bitter laughter burns through the taste of bile.
My heart is dying.
I’m fucking dying.
I’m dying.
It sounds surreal no matter how many times I say it.
Dr. Barnard told me today that my name has been added to the donor's list. As if I’ll fucking live long enough to be considered.
I can’t believe it.
Death caught up with me after all.
How am I going to tell Jaxson and Willow that I’m dying?
Fuck.
“Fuck!” I scream until my throat is raw and sobs start to shake my body. I drag myself into a crawling position as if I can get away from the death sentence hanging over me.
“Why?” The word rips from me as the finality starts to sink in.
When I have no more tears to cry, I drag myself up. I only make it to the hallway when it hits again – the inescapable fact – I’m dying.