The Heart of Memory (10 page)

“You’ve got it. Off we go!” The nurses wheeled the bed into the hall, and Shaun and Tammy followed them as far as the swinging double doors that led to the OR. He kissed her once more, then let Tammy lead him to the spacious waiting room lined with couches and dotted with tables and chairs.

“Will anyone else be coming?”

“Our daughter and her boyfriend, Savannah’s assistant … possibly some others, but I don’t know for sure.”

“I’ll let reception know and they’ll send them all here. Do you want to wait for your daughter before we go over the surgery?”

“No, I’m not sure when she’ll get here. Let’s just do it now while I can still concentrate.”

They sat at a table and Tammy went over the sequence of events that would begin with the arrival of the heart, but Shaun barely paid attention. All he could think about was his wife in the OR, chest splayed open, her life in the hands of a team of mere mortals.
Well, and God, too.
But that didn’t comfort him as much as it comforted Savannah.

“Dad!”

He turned in his seat and saw Jessie and Adam coming down the hall. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Is she okay?”

“She just went in a few minutes ago for prep. The heart should be here soon. This is Tammy, the transplant coordinator. Tammy, this is our daughter, Jessie, and her boyfriend, Adam.”

“Nice to meet you. Boy, aren’t you the spitting image of your mother.”

Jessie smiled a little. “Thank you.”

“I just finished explaining the next twenty-four hours to your dad, but I’ll leave these papers here so you can read over them. Feel free to page me if you have any questions. I’ll be here until she’s out of surgery.”

“How long will that be?” Jessie asked.

“Around nine hours, assuming there are no hitches.”

She blew out a breath. “Wow.”

Shaun stood and shook Tammy’s hand. “Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome. Let me know if you need anything and I’ll see what I can do.”

She disappeared down the hall. Shaun sat back down and rubbed a hand over his face. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“How did she look before she went in?”

“Not great, but obviously she wasn’t bad enough for them to not do the surgery. I have a feeling this was an eleventh hour save, though. At the rate she was going …” He shook his head. “Anyway, we just have to pray this goes okay.” He took the hand Jessie stretched out to him.

“So … what now?”

He shrugged. “Now we wait.”

T
HEY DIDN’T HAVE TO WAIT
alone, however. Not long after Jessie and Adam arrived, Mary and Alex did as well, followed by Adam’s mother and two other A&A staff members, including Marisa. Then Andi and Colleen showed up with their husbands, bringing four pizzas with them, and Pastor John arrived with his wife an hour into the surgery. The impromptu party in the waiting room made Shaun both happy and edgy. It was good to know how many people cared about them—and cared enough to trek for nearly two hours through rotten weather. But it was overwhelming as well — all the praying and worshiping (John had brought his guitar), all the concerned faces close to his asking how he was holding up. A couple hours into the surgery he told Jessie he was going for a walk, and left the group for the quiet of the chapel.

He stared at the stained glass picture of a hilly countryside at sunset, trying to capture some of the peace the image depicted. He was scared Savannah would die, and he couldn’t shake it. He was afraid to consider the details he’d have to face if the surgery didn’t work. He didn’t want to jinx it, or make God think that he was prepared enough for it that he would decide to go ahead and take her. But at the same time, he was afraid not to plan, knowing that he would never think of all the details in the throes of grief; better to have things figured out just in case.

He’d sell the house, for sure. He’d never be able to stay there without his wife, and it was too much space for just him and Jessie— especially since Jessie would likely never really move back. He knew how serious she and Adam were; surely a wedding would follow on the heels of graduation.

A&A would shut down, certainly. It was built around Savannah; without her at the helm it was pointless. It was a ministry for women; Shaun would not be able to do what she did, and Jessie had no interest in being involved — had no interest in the ministry at all, period.

Though at least with A&A gone and the house sold the debts would all go away. What a relief that would be, to have that monkey off his —

“What am I doing?” He said the words aloud, shocked at the turn of his thoughts. “God, I didn’t mean it. I would never trade Savannah just to get out from under this mess. It’s all my own fault. She shouldn’t have to pay for it.”

Another thought ignited panic. “This isn’t all because of me, is it? God, I’m sorry. Please, don’t take her. Don’t let her die.”

A noise behind him made him turn. A chaplain stood at the back, and Shaun’s chest tightened with embarrassment. How much had he heard?

“I’m sorry to disturb you. I did a service in here earlier and think I left my glasses on the podium.” He gave Shaun a friendly smile as he passed him on the way up to the simple wooden podium at the front of the chapel. “Ah, bingo.” He pocketed the glasses and walked back to Shaun. “I’m Reverend Hutchinson. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“My wife — she just went in for a heart transplant, and I’m—” Shaun didn’t know what to say.
I’m cheating her ministry out of money at every turn so I can keep someone quiet and keep my kid in college?
“I’m feeling … desperate.”

The reverend sat in the pew in front of Shaun and turned to face him. “Can I pray for you?”

He’d gotten plenty of prayer in the waiting room. He didn’t deserve any more. “No thanks,” he said as he stood. “Just pray for my wife.”

He left the chapel and headed back to the waiting room, but the strains of everyone singing made him turn around. He was definitely not in a worshipful mood. He followed the signs to the foyer where a bank of vending machines provided snacks and drinks. He could still hear the music, but hearing it wasn’t as bad as having to participate in it. He slotted some change for a coffee, then sat at one of the tables and let the minutes tick by as he chanted
Don’t let her die, don’t let her die
in his head.

He rested his head on his folded arms and eventually began to doze, only to awaken with a start sometime later, panicked that he’d missed something. The music down the hall was gone. He checked his phone for the time and saw that the surgery had been going for four hours. He took his coffee, now cold, back to the waiting room and found most of the visitors had crashed out on the couches. Jessie and Adam were playing cards; Mary was knitting in the corner, a blanket with various shades of purple cascading from the needles; and John sat at a table with his Bible and a notebook. Those who were awake acknowledged him when he returned, but thankfully said nothing to him as he made his way to an empty couch and settled into its corner. The chant picked up again in his mind as he closed his eyes, and for the next few hours he dozed off and on before finally succumbing to a deep sleep.

He was awakened by Tammy gently calling his name and shaking his shoulder. His eyes flew open when it finally registered who she was.

He jumped to his feet. “What’s happening?”

She smiled. “Surgery is done, and she did great. It’s over now. Savannah has a new heart.”

CHAPTER 6

S
AVANNAH SAT ON THE COUCH, HANDS WRAPPED AROUND A MUG
of tea as she stared at the trees. It was all she’d done since coming home three days ago, and she was frustrated by how little things had changed. Hadn’t she been doing this before going into the hospital? When was the new heart going to kick in and give her some energy?

She had been warned about the emotional roller coaster that came along with a new lease on life, about the depression that came with knowing someone had to die so you could live. She’d known it beforehand, of course, but with the evidence housed in her chest, she had trouble not dwelling on it. The concept was obviously familiar, and she’d expected to feel a lot more gratefulness toward Jesus for his sacrifice after this experience, but instead she just felt … angry.

She tried not to overanalyze her emotions. “Everyone processes their transplants differently,” Tammy had assured her at a recent checkup. “Just go with it, let yourself feel what you feel. It’ll all even out eventually. But it takes time.” It had been a relief to hear she wasn’t some emotional freak; but even so, she had expected to feel like herself again, and she didn’t—and that was maddening.

Her Bible sat beside her on the end table, the bookmark still in the Psalms. She’d picked it up every day, even opened it a few times, but reading felt like a chore and the verses weren’t alive for her like they had been before the surgery. Every now and then she’d imagine herself approaching the throne of Heaven, the image she’d often used in her younger years to get her mind in the right state for prayer, but later she’d realize her thoughts had wandered and she’d never actually prayed anything. She’d center herself and try again, but “thank you” didn’t seem strong enough given the magnitude of the gift, and she felt guilty praying about anything else. She longed for that brilliance she’d felt in the days before the transplant, when God had been as real and close as her own self. Now she just felt alone, and she resented that the mountaintop experience had been so short-lived.

She took a slow sip of the tea after waiting just long enough that she wouldn’t scald her tongue. The heat streaked down her throat but died in her chest, as though swallowed up by ice—which is what her chest felt like these days: as though a snowball sat in its center. Her cardiologist chuckled when she described it. “I haven’t heard that one before.” She didn’t appreciate that he didn’t seem to take it seriously.

She thought she’d feel a lot better if she could just get the energy to
do
something. She’d lost so much time during her illness; it was driving her crazy to lose so much more. She’d envisioned the new heart being like a new engine in a run-down car, thinking she’d jump back into life and make up for all the days she’d spent on the sofa and in the hospital. But here she was, almost three weeks post-op and only slightly less sluggish than she’d been in the days before her collapse. The problem was that her brain was ready to get back in the game; it was her body that didn’t have the stamina.

Shaun kept telling her to get her laptop out and get back to work on the book she’d started to brainstorm in the hospital. She’d managed to get the whole book’s outline done before growing too weak to work, and at the time she’d been quite pleased with its depth. But she’d made the mistake of mentioning it to her agent when talking to her the week after her surgery, and the agent had called two days ago to tell her they had a contract for the book. “Didn’t even need to see a proposal,” he said with a laugh. “Just happened to mention it to the publisher over lunch and they begged for it. Now, they don’t want to set a deadline for you, because they know you’re still recovering and don’t want you stressing out over finishing it. But the sooner the better, of course, to capitalize on the buzz. It would be ideal if we could get it on the shelves by the end of October.”

She knew her agent didn’t mean to sound heartless. But she couldn’t help feeling hurt by him and her publisher taking such a materialistic view of her personal suffering. She understood the nature of the business, but it didn’t change the fact that it made her mad. Maybe that was why she was balking at working on the manuscript.

Savannah made another cup of tea, then opened her laptop. She briefly thought of launching the word processing program, but clicked instead on the internet browser. She never spent much time online, save for doing email; she’d never felt comfortable navigating the nebulous World Wide Web. But on a whim she went to a search engine and entered “heart transplant support” just to see what would happen.

She hadn’t expected over seven million returns for the search, and laughed aloud when she saw the number. This would certainly keep her busy.

She scanned the first ten returns and clicked on one that said something about a forum. She found herself at a message board, something she’d never interacted with before. It took her a minute to figure out what it was, but once she made it into the forum and saw the list of threads, a smile spread wide across her face. Post after post from people just like herself filled the screen. She began to click each one in turn, reading them voraciously. Finally, people who understood what she felt, what she’d gone through! People who didn’t keep telling her how blessed she was, which made her feel horrible for not feeling more happy. She lost track of time as she read, and jumped when the doorbell rang.

“Surprise!” Her girlfriends stood on the front porch with balloons and a cake. Their festive mood mirrored the refreshing lightness she felt after reading the forum, and she welcomed them in with far more gratefulness and joviality than she would have had they come before she’d gotten online.

“You guys are sweet, thanks. Oh — that cake is too funny!”

Andi set the two-tiered, heart-shaped cake on the kitchen counter. “It’s strawberry, and none of us could recall if we’d ever seen you eat strawberry cake, so we decided to take a chance.”

“Oh, I’m sure it will be delicious.” Honestly, she wasn’t a fan of the flavor, but she wasn’t going to admit that after all the trouble they’d gone through. She got a knife from the drawer and wielded it above the frosting. “I much prefer being on this end of the slicing.” They laughed as she cut pieces for everyone, then Mary poured sparkling cider for everyone and they toasted to Savannah’s health.

When she took a bite of the cake, she was stunned at how delicious it was. “Oh my gosh, this is heaven.”

Colleen grinned. “So you do like strawberry cake.”

Savannah took another bite. “Well, I’ll confess I usually don’t. But this is … wow.”

“I’ll give you the recipe.”

“So how is it to finally be home?” Bethany asked between bites.

“Good. Not like I was expecting, but better than being in the hospital.”

“How is it not like you expected?”

“I just thought I’d be back in the swing of things sooner. I didn’t think I’d still be feeling this blah.”

“How long is it supposed to be until you’re back to normal?”

She shrugged. “They don’t know. Some people have more energy, some people never really get back to how they were. It’s just a waiting game to see which way I’ll go. Though these days I have my fears that I’ll fall in with the latter.”

Andi set her plate aside. “So is it weird, knowing a piece of someone else is inside you?”

The question made her squirm. “Um, well … yes.” Though these were her closest friends, she still had trouble talking about the details of the surgery. Even Shaun hadn’t asked questions like that yet. And if he had, she wasn’t sure she’d have answered honestly.

“Can you tell it’s someone else’s? Does it feel different?”

Bethany rolled her eyes. “It’s a heart, Andi. How many ways can it feel?”

“Well, I don’t know, maybe it’s one of those things that you don’t notice until someone goes messing around with it.”

Savannah wasn’t about to admit that yes, it did feel different, and she was acutely aware of it every minute of the day. “I notice it … sometimes … but it might just be the healing from the surgery.”

Mary nodded. “That would make sense. How are you healing up?”

“Just fine, according to the doctor.” She didn’t want to get into how she felt like she was still laid open on the table, at least emotionally, or how the scar running the entire length of her torso would never allow her to forget, no matter how much she wanted to.

Colleen gave Savannah’s shoulder a squeeze. “So the only thing left is to get you back to regular speed and everything will be fine.”

Andi put an arm around her shoulder. “God will take care of you. We’ll start praying that you’re renewed to your old self, or better.”

The comment rubbed her the wrong way, though she didn’t know why. She forced a smile. “Thanks.”

“You know,” Mary said to the others, “maybe the four of us could organize a little prayer team for Savannah. We should have started one back when she first got sick, but I don’t think any of us realized how bad it was going to get. Like you, Savannah, we all figured it was just the flu. And then things went downhill so fast …” She waved away the memory. “Anyway, the four of us, let’s do it. Once a week, we’ll pray over you, and commit to praying for you every day until you’re back to how you were.”

“That’s really sweet, but—”

“I love it!” Bethany said. “How about we meet at my place for coffee next Thursday around ten? Does that work for you, Savannah?”

“Um, I’ll have to check—”

“Why don’t we all check and email Bethany with our availability,” Colleen suggested.

“Perfect,” said Bethany.

“You know who we should invite in on this?” said Mary. “Arlene Wilkins at church.”

Andi nodded. “Oh, yes, she’s such a prayer warrior.”

“I’ll give her a call tonight and see if she’d be able to make it.”

“Great idea!”

Savannah withdrew from the conversation, irritated and feeling like a project for them to pounce on. She thought back to the conversation with Shaun when she’d suggested having Pastor John meet with them for accountability. Now she understood why he’d been so opposed to it. Hearing people talking about her in a spiritual way made her feel exposed.

She kept herself busy eating cake so she wouldn’t have to talk. A second slice came in handy for that—though admittedly she’d have taken another one anyway, it was so good—and she contributed noncommittal “Mm-hmms” for the next ten minutes while hoping they’d all leave. The goodwill she’d been feeling when they arrived wore off quickly, and now she was just eager for them to go so she could get back to reading her support forum.

After half an hour they still showed no signs of leaving, so Savannah made the decision for them. “Well, I have a doctor’s appointment in twenty minutes, so I should start cleaning up and get going for that.”

“Oh, of course,” Mary said as they all stood. “I’ll bet you’re at the doctor a lot these days.”

“Yeah, they’re keeping close tabs, as you can imagine.”

They took turns giving Savannah hugs, then filed out the door. “Thursday at ten, don’t forget,” Bethany said as she walked down the porch stairs.

“Yes, I’ll let you know about that.” She stayed at the door for a moment, not wanting to look impolite, then shut it and sagged onto the couch, exhausted.

She loved her friends, she really did, but this was beyond the scope of their understanding. They couldn’t possibly fathom the way this experience had turned her inside out in every possible way. She could barely understand it herself, and she was the one living it. They couldn’t know how personal those questions were, and how disturbed she was by their answers.

But the people on the forum could.

She continued to read, indulging in another slice of cake, until Shaun came home. “That looks like it was good,” he said, eyeing the crumbs on the empty cake plate.

“It was. Sorry I didn’t save any for you. I couldn’t stop eating it.”

“That’s alright. Guess I’m on my own for dinner then?”

She smiled. “I think so, yes.”

“I take it you had a visitor today, then? Who brought it?”

“The girls.”

“All four of them? That was sweet.”

“Yes. All four of them.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Did it not go well?”

She shrugged. “It’s not that it didn’t go well … I just don’t think I was ready for so many visitors asking so many questions.”

He nodded and gently wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright.”

“So did you find any time to start working on the book again?”

She fought the defensiveness that rose in her chest. “No. I was busy.”

“How long were the women here for?”

“Not with them — I found an online support group for transplant recipients. It’s been really wonderful reading all their stories, hearing how much we all have in common with our recoveries —”

He chuckled. “You’re not going to become an internet junkie now, are you?”