It had never occurred to me that I could actually die during the surgery. I know that I never again want to hold anyone else responsible for making care decisions on my behalf in such a difficult situation.Read More
It is easy to quantify my life in numbers.
I am twenty-five. I've had four cardiac arrests.
There were three extra open-heart surgeries following my transplant: because my new heart initially failed.
I've been the vessel for two hearts.
I've coded once.Read More
For, Some scars heal.
Some wind their way
And impregnate through
The derma and the fat
The bone and the fascia
Sliced by hands not much older than yours.Read More
1. So, you got the whole thing replaced? Or just, like part of it?
2. Will you be on meds forever?
3. What is a heart biopsy?
4. Will you need another heart?
5. Do you know anything about your donor?
6. BUT YOU'RE SO YOUNG!?
7. Wow, so you're better now?
Do yourself a favor. Stop what you are doing. Find a quiet place. Close the door. If it is night when you are reading this, take a toke, pour one out, or just affix your noise-cancelling Bose headphones to the forgotten inner vestiges of you and absorb.Read More
Ah, hello midnight. It's been awhile.
If by awhile, you mean 24 hours, because hey! Wasn't I in this exact same predicament last night?
I thought I would no longer sweat the small stuff. I scoffed at the idea that I would still be too afraid to approach anyone remotely out of my league. I thought I would be more assertive, less accommodating, and so, so grateful. I thought a lot of things.Read More
So here's a toast to the hard part; the sticky part. The part of me that will not try to find the silver lining. That will not stray away from saying the things that are hard to say. For once I won't even try to be grateful. I will not see the bigger picture or find peace in the consolation prize that is being alive.Read More
INT. CLINIC ROOM - DAY SCENE: A STIFF, METAL CHAIR WITH TAN VINYL BACK AND SEAT. SUBJECT (MID-20S, FEMALE) SITS… EYES GAZE UP AND BEGIN SLOWLY PANNING THE ROOM SHE HAS OCCUPIED A HUNDRED TIMES BEFORE.Read More
It's a 17 minute drive from the home I was raised in, if I don't make the lights. It can be 14 minutes if I do. The signs say 35, but no one will cop you for going two to three ticks above forty. There's a small hill at the base of the diverge and if you take it quickly something in you smiles a little.Read More
I keep telling myself that someday I will wake up. That what I discover in my research, in the experiences of my peers, and in what I build an awareness of that I am not somehow cosmically causing this onslaught of complications.Read More
I'll wear v-neck rompers and continue telling humorously shocked strangers that "it's a botched boob job!" 'till the cows come home, but this palette is already too full of the artwork of some unnamed fellow's sutures. I'm just done. I'd like to be vain, just for a little while.Read More