I never asked for this to happen. I thought joining the soccer team would help. Everyone did; my mother, my father, and even Dr. Richards. They said that the physical activity would help my heart and that being on the team would help me make more friends. It helped for a while, but then it started to hurt even more. They all said that I shouldn't overwork myself. I didn't think much of it since I was only 16 years old. But, being an asthmatic with Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy didn't help anything. I was a completely healthy girl, I barely got sick, and I almost never needed my inhaler. But when I entered high school I started getting sick more often and I had to carry my inhaler with me in case I had an attack. As I entered sophomore year I started hurting in my chest and some mornings I could barely get out of bed because I could barely breathe and the pain was so severe. About halfway through the semester my parents decided to take me to Dr. Richards. I was only 15 then. He had said that I had Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy and that he is surprised to see the symptoms show up since it was usually asymptomatic. He had explained to me that it was thickened wall in my left ventricle and Systolic Anterior Motion of my mitral valve. I could explain more but maybe I should move on to when I decided to join my school's soccer team.
"Rachel Adams, Serena Jones, and Alana Michaels; congratulations, you all made the team this year. Practice is on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays every week at 4 o'clock after school and then at 10 o'clock in the morning. Make sure you are on time. I do not take kindly to tardiness."
When I heard the coach say my name I was in complete shock. I was also slightly afraid since I was the only sophomore on the team. Rachel and Serena were juniors along with the rest of the girls aside from a few seniors.
"Hey Alana, congrats on getting on the team; you did amazing."
I look up and see Rachel smiling down at me. I didn't know her very well, she was in my Algebra and English classes, but we never spoke.
"Uhm thanks Rachel."
I smile slightly at her and then pick up my backpack. My chest hasn't hurt at all today; I guess this only means tomorrow will be one of those days. This wasn't anything new, it happened all the time. I sighed and went to tying my shoe; completely oblivious to Rachel still standing there.
"You should put your hair up more often so we can see your face more."
Her remark startles me. I look back up at her to respond but I couldn't find anything to say.
"Hey, after practice on Friday do you wanna go to the ice cream parlor with Me, Serena, and a few other girls? I see you in class all the time and around school, but you don't talk much to anyone."
"Oh, well, I guess I can do that. Thanks Rachel."
Three weeks after I joined the team, Rachel and I were best friends and hung out every day after practice had ended. She knows about my heart and my asthma and now monitors everything I do to make sure I don't overdo anything. This made me feel happy. It felt like nice to have someone care for me because they want to, not because they have to. The only downside is that the pains are getting worse and worse as time goes on; I wouldn't tell Rachel or my parents this though, I didn't want to worry them too much.
"Alana? Are you feelin' alright girly?"
Rachel placed a hand on my shoulder as I bent over panting. I had forgotten my inhaler that day and was having trouble breathing. I look up at her and smile.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit tired."
"Well, alright. Practice will be over in 20 minutes so just try and hang on 'til then. You don't want coach to make you sit out the game tomorrow."
"I know, I know. I can pull through. I'm just tired."
Rachel gives me a concerned look but lets it go. She knows I don't like her overly worrying about me. I have an appointment with Dr. Richards after practice anyways, so we'll get to see why my chest has been bothering me more often recently.
I've been at his office for over an hour now and he hasn't said a word to me. All he does is check my vitals and then write on his clipboard. He doesn't look at me and he doesn't show any signs of anything being wrong.
"Uhm, Dr. Richards? Is everything alright?"
He looks up from his clipboard almost as if he was surprised I spoke. His hand was still moving as he looked back down at what he was writing on the paper before stopping and placing it on the counter.
"I just need to check your blood pressure really quick Alana and then we can discuss everything. Roll up your sleeves and stay relaxed."
He wraps the sphygmomanometer around my forearm and begins applying pressure until my arm goes almost completely numb and then he releases it. He takes out his pen and writes something down before removing it and putting back in one of the drawers.
"Now, I have some good news and some bad news for you."
"I think I would prefer to hear the good news first sir."
Actually, I would prefer that there was no bad news and my heart was just a bit overworked. But obviously this isn't the case at all.
"The good news is your asthma is not as bad as it was a few months ago so you won't need your inhaler as often as you do now."
"And the bad news?"
"The bad news is that your systolic, diastolic levels are a bit low and you seem to have a more prominent arrhythmia than before. How bad has your angina been lately?"
"Well, for a while now it seems to be getting worse. But I'm just overworking it a bit. Right?"
I dreaded his answer to my question.
"Wrong. I am sorry Alana, but if it continues like this you are eventually going to die. Unless we can get you into surgery soon, you will not make it."
"What do you mean? Two weeks ago you said I was doing fine."
"Not really. I just didn't want to say anything since I wasn't absolutely sure and it wasn't this serious. But when I checked all of your vitals and your blood, it wasn't good. We have to perform Cardiac Transplantation before the worst of these starts up."
And that was that. Over the course of the next week we were making plans for the operation. That Friday when I was supposed to have it done after soccer practice though went different than everyone had hoped.
"Come on Alana! One more lap! You can do it!"
My chest hurt. I couldn't breathe. All I could hear was this ringing in my ears. I could feel my heart pound throughout my body. Everything was blurred. Remember, breathe deeply and count down from ten Alana.
Ten…
"Somebody call an ambulance!"
Nine…
"Hang in there Alana, help is on the way. Just stay with us."
Eight…
"She's in Cardiac Arrest! Get her in the van!"
Seven…
"Hang in there girl. We're almost to the hospital."
Six…
"My baby! Where is my baby!?"
Five…
"Please calm down Mrs. Michaels, we are taking your daughter into the ER as we speak."
Four…
"She's flat lining!"
Three…
"No!"
Two…
"We are so sorry Mrs. Michaels."
One…
Peace at last.
