The Other Side of Tomorrow

I spend the rest of the day walking as much as I can and going to the bathroom every time I get the urge. By the next day I’m walking without help and peeing a normal amount, which is a huge relief. They monitor me closely still, but so far there are no signs of rejection and no need for dialysis to help the new kidney along. By the afternoon on the day after that they finally discharge me and send me home with an appointment to return in three days for a check up.

“Thank you for everything,” I tell Ashley who’s on duty as I’m released and the one to wheel me to the entrance where my dad has brought the car around to load me.

“No problem.” She smiles at me, putting the brakes on the wheelchair so I can’t roll away. “Good luck with everything, sweetie.”

She leaves me with my mom and sister, who carry my bag and wheel the cart of balloons and flowers that have been delivered over the last couple of days from friends and family.

Meredith’s family sent a huge bouquet of sunflowers, my favorite, and a gift card to Barnes and Noble.

Dad hops out of the car and helps my mom and sister load the trunk with everything.

Harlow helps me out of the wheelchair and I manage to get into the car on my own. I’m surprised by how quickly I’ve recovered but they explained that my body is so overjoyed to have a working kidney that the pain becomes minimal.

Harlow gets into the back beside me and hands me the kidney-shaped pillow the hospital gifted me.

“Thank you,” I tell her, and clutch it to my chest.

My mom and dad get in and Dad looks at me in the rearview mirror. “Is there anywhere you want to stop before we go home?” he asks me.

I shake my head. “Nope.”

After being in the hospital the last three days I want nothing more than to be home. My home is my safe place, right now it’s the place I need to be.

I fall asleep during the drive and wake up when the car pulls into the garage, my head resting on Harlow’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” I apologize to her as I sit up, rubbing sleep from my eyes. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”

“It’s okay.” She unbuckles her seatbelt. “You know I didn’t mind.”

My mom opens my car door and offers her hand to help me out. I wave her away. “I can do this.”

She gives me a doubtful look. “I’d feel better if I helped.” She reaches for my hand.

I swat at it. Not meanly, more in a joking way. “I’m fine, Mom. I have to do this.”

She huffs out a breath and mutters, “Always so independent,” under her breath before stepping away from me so I can slide out of the car on my own.

“See?” I tell her when I stand on my own two feet. “I’ve got this.”

She shakes her head but her lips twitch with the threat of a smile. “Yes, I suppose you do,” she relents, and moves to the trunk of the car to help carry everything inside while I hobble into the mudroom.

Perry barks madly when he spots me, prevented from getting to me by the baby gate that blocks him. One of our neighbors took care of him—and the elusive cat—while we were at the hospital, but Perry still looks delighted to see us.

“Hey, Perry.” I pet him over the gate, waiting for him to calm down before I enter. He’s large, and if he stood up to love on me he’d be likely to push on my incision which sounds like the least pleasant thing in the world right now.

Dad comes in with a vase of flowers and my bag, setting them down on the bench across from the storage cabinets.

“Perry, wanna come outside, boy?” he asks and the dog jumps and barks.

Dad grabs his leash and clips it on. I stand to the side as Perry enters the mudroom. Like I envisioned, Perry tries to jump on me, but my dad pulls him easily away and out the door. “I’m going to walk him,” he tells me over his shoulder as he descends the three steps into the garage. “Hopefully it’ll calm him down.”

I don’t feel like going up to my room, instead I grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator and walk a few laps around the island—not only because I need to walk, but to stretch my legs which have grown stiff from the car ride.

Finally, I sit down on the couch in the family room, resting my legs on the leather ottoman. I turn the TV on and flip to a random channel, wanting it on more for the distraction of the sound than to watch something.

Harlow carries in a vase of flowers—a mixed assortment of odd flowers I’ve never seen before—that my dad’s work sent. She sets them on the table beside me.

“Wanna watch a movie?” she asks.