Fandom: Victorious
Title: Point of View
Chapter 26: Turbulence
Point of view: Cat Valentine
Dec 31st 2022
Los Angeles Children's Hospital Chapel
"Hello, Jesus. It's me. Catarina Luria Valentine. You always say time is supposed to heal me. It's been a week, Jesus. Since those boys violated me, and I can't get over this feeling that the world is crumbling at my feet, when will I ever feel normal again, sweet Jesus? I feel like I will never have control again. I'm so confused."
"What did I do that was so wrong that you would send those boys to rape me. If you didn't want me to be gay, why would you make me that way? Did you send them to teach me a lesson?"
"I know premarital sex is immoral, and you hate homosexuals, so why did you create us in these bodies with these feelings? To test our loyalties? If we fail, do you send your messengers as a form of punishment?"
"I'm sorry, Jesus. Please forgive me. I never meant to fail your temptations, but I can't help how I feel with Jade. I am in love with her, and it doesn't feel wrong. So, can you please forgive me? I want to feel safe again, Jesus, and I don't feel safe anywhere. Not home. Or my parents. I am so scared of failing you and having you send more messengers."
"My child, someone hurt you that isn't your fault." "AHH!" I scream, jumping back as a heavy hand is laid upon my shoulders. Falling back against the railing at the altar, my back hits it hard. Whimpering, I curl up into a ball, hugging my knees to my chest. "Please don't hurt me! I'm sorry!" crying out, I can't bear to look up who my perpetrator is this time.
"Let me help." The largest of the boys rushes forward. I can't move fast enough to get out of his grip on my elbows, I scream. He laughs. His mouth presses to my ears. "I have a knife. If you scream again, I'll slit your throat."
The sound of a zipper echoes inside my head. "Are you getting this Rage?" "Sure, I am; the phone is recording. Do your worst. The slut will love it. So, will Remi." He rips my shirt I flinch. I don't move. Lug nuts hands have a powerful grip on me, one arm across my chest. The other over my throat. Air is hard to find.
A breeze hits my bare skin. I can't shiver; the fear gripes me as tight as the giant boy. His breath stinks like cigars and Vodka. "Your skin is soft, baby. I'm going to enjoy this. So very much."
"Aah'm fixin' to win this prize. Make sure you're getting the action down south. She isn't going to mind. She a little slut she used to being featured in porn videos."
"Does the prize still count, Terry? If she ain't a virgin no more?"
"Don't use my real name, dumbass. To answer your question, she is still a virgin. She had girl sex that ain't real sex. Not unless a girl lies with a man. Don't worry; I'll make sure your first time feels outstanding."
I can't breathe; why can't I pull myself together? The pain is so vivid. Every thrust feels as if it is happening at this very moment; every jerk of his body weighs down on my tender body. I can feel his hands holding me down painfully, leaving the bruises I have on my wrists and arms now a deep purple; I know I am having a flashback, and I know the moment of my attack is in the past, but I can't stop the heavy breathing or the tightness of his chest, the eyes of the pastor standing before me stare right through me. He is judging me and condemning me, laughing at me.
My heart pounds as the pastor reaches out for me. "NO!" I scream, pushing myself back to get away from him. Tears hotter than the Sahara Desert slide roughly down my cheeks. His hands felt like thunder against my skin, and his breath was so hot it left my cheeks sacred.
"Dark things happen in dark alleys." Everyone always says it in comic books, TV shows, and movies. How can you prepare for something when you are never told the truth? Rapists don't always wear ski masks and attack you on the street when walking alone; that's not what happened to me. Bad guys walk among us. They look like our school friends, our Sunday school teachers, and our parents; they talk normal like everyone else and make what they do feel normal because no one ever warns you that rape isn't what they lead you to believe.
"Let her go, back away, Pastor Lyon; she's having a flashback. Just step away from her. I got her. Please give us some privacy." Amanda's voice calls out. I watch the pastor back away, confused. Seconds later, Amanda kneels a few inches before me, not touching me. Her eyes are kind and soft, looking deeply into mine.
"Cat, I know how scary these damn flashbacks can be, and I know you're confused; but I need you to listen to me and follow my lead. I won't touch you, but I will ask you to breathe slowly. In for three seconds like this..1..2..3."
Amanda takes a deep breath, slowly inhaling. "Now out on three. One…two…three." She releases the breath she is holding. Her hands lay flat mid-air, palms open side up. Slowly I reach out and place my hands on top of hers.
"Good Cat. Nice and easy. I understand you must feel powerless, and it's a terrifying feeling, honey. I used to feel the urge to throw up all the time after my boss raped me. I never knew where that feeling came from or how to get rid of it. I saw his eyes in every man I passed, looking through me and laughing at me. I heard his voice constantly inside my head. "I don't take no for an answer, Mandy. Just lie there like a good bitch. Take it, baby, like a real man." "Even being a detective and having worked with rape victims for years and all the classes I took, I still found myself wondering how the fuck this happened to me? How did I become a victim? What was happening to my body that I could no longer control my thoughts and body's reaction?"
"Memory doesn't have a beginning, middle, or end. So we only remember isolated bits."
"Sometimes they are triggered by smells, sights, noises- we can't always control our environment around us, so anything can cause us to have a flashback. For years after Patton attacked me, I couldn't smell coffee without throwing up, and I used to love coffee; it took me years to reclaim enough power to hold a cup in my hands without rushing to the nearest trash can to hurl."
"Why do I keep losing bits of time? I can't remember what I was doing before Pastor Lyon touched me. Where am I, and why am I here?" I look around and see I am sitting on the church floor, crunched up against the altar; my back is on fire.
"Flashbacks aren't time tagged, Cat. They can feel as if the attacks are happening to us at this very moment. They are powerful and as violating as the initial attack. Our bodies experience the same emotions as if we are still in danger; we freeze, run, cry, and shake. We can't control the situation now any more than we could when it originally happened."
"Flashbacks can come in different forms. They can be images, strong feelings, smells, numbness, nightmares, and thoughts suddenly coming to our minds."
"Cat. I want you to try this for me, will you?" Amanda poses the question before me, squeezing my hands lightly. "Sure, I'll try."
"Put your feet firmly on the ground; I want you to close your eyes and trust me. I won't let you fall." She helps me to stand slowly. My legs are shaking, but her hands hold me tightly. "Remind yourself you are standing up on your own two feet. Say the words out loud."
"I'm a survivor. I'm standing up on my own two feet."
"Good louder."
"I'm a survivor. I'm standing up on my own two feet."
"Perfect Cat. Now breathe deeply. When we are fearful, we can start to breathe too quickly. Take a deep breath, hold it in till I say to let it out." I follow her instructions. "Four counts in and six counts out. The longer you exhale, the body is aided in its parasympathetic response; it's part of the body which encourages us to relax and rest."
"Bring yourself back into the present with these methods. Try thinking of a song or look at a picture on your phone." She pulls my phone out of my pocket. I don't cringe this time. She's slow and keeps eye contact with me. Scrolling through my phone, she finds one of Jade I took a few weeks back, smiling back to back, arms over our chests. "Jade makes you calm; she gives you a feeling of protection. Use that connection to connect with the present."
"Touch yourself, Cat. Feel the skin on your arms, the goosebumps lining them, and place your hand over your heart. Remind yourself. Faith, hope, and love are the greatest things Jesus gave us; they are inside your heart. Not hate, not anger, not pain. No pain is greater than love."
"State clearly to yourself, Cat, these are symptoms of a memory, a reaction. They are not real. You are scared, yes. Is your heart racing? Hell yeah, but not because you are in danger. You remember an attack that took away your control at that moment. You are not crazy or confused; you are just reacting like you were on a plane, and it hit turbulence. Reach out to the people who love you. Talk to your friends or family. Let them help by touching and kissing or just sitting with you if you feel comfortable. The panic and fear can feel so scary; they take away your breath. Remember, it's just temporary. You can't help it when they happen. Your friends and family are permanent."
"Thank you, Amanda. I am starting to feel better. Can we sit?" She nods, helping me to sit in one of the pews.
"How long did you feel in control again, Amanda?"
"I was confused at first, Cat, for months. One minute I was crying and screaming with anger, the next minute, I was pretending that nothing had happened and I needed to buy milk. It was tough at first because I was a single mother, and my kids needed me, but my world felt out of control; slowly, with time, I saw a way forward. I realized I was living through the trauma with one foot, one step, one breath at a time."
"I finally listened to the advice I gave to victims I counseled. If you're alive, it means you're committed to surviving. That's enough to drain the life from you sometimes, but hold on tight."
"I never spoke at first; I knew no one would believe me. I was known as a whore sleeping her way up the chain. Even though it wasn't true. The Atlanta Police Department is a boys club; most police departments are even now in 2023. It's simply a label women get when they have ambition, brains, and skills. If I talked about it, I would feel it; it would be real. If I didn't, I could pretend it didn't happen."
"When I did start speaking about the events. It slowly freed me from the shame and guilt I felt. The more I struggled to speak, the less power the rape and its aftermath seemed to have over me."
"I turned to my faith Cat. Now that is only the answer for some. I know religion is a hot topic button. Faith saved me, though; it was all I had to be strong when it was a fight to keep myself together enough to get the kids fed, dressed, and to school. Jesus reminded me hope is never lost; yes, it gets murky some days. When I am weak and struggling to walk, he carries me. Reading my bible helped when my heart was heavy and my soul tired. It reminded me I am a fighter. Like Jesus, he was rejected, crucified, laughed at, and wrongly judged. He never gave up though he stood strong to his convictions and love for all of us. He died for our sins so we could live."
"No one ever knew about the conflict of rage inside; People always described me as upbeat and bubbly."
"That's how they would describe me too, Amanda, except I don't feel so upbeat or bubbly now. I just hurt all over inside and outside."
"I know, sweetie, and I understand you feel like part of you is so far gone you will never reclaim her." I nod, biting my lower lip and feeling the tears well inside my eyes. "She's not, Cat. She's just buried under all these emotions. It's heavy and vibrant. Rape is one of the most horrifying experiences, especially for an already confused, scared sixteen-year-old girl who didn't even experience sex until that day. Sometimes your brain will shut down. You'll feel numb. It's okay. It's normal. On other days your mind will race, your heart will scream, and you will fall to your knees crying. Those days are normal, and it's okay as well. We all process emotions and experiences differently. You may feel like a shell. All your feelings-hurt, shame, anger, guilt, sadness, and confusion will be locked away. Let them out. Give them a voice? They are crying to be heard. Don't deny yourself the right to feel them no matter what is happening in this world or with the people you love. Share them. Let them help you. I promise they love you enough to put their hurts aside, just like you love them enough to give them the same dignity and respect you wish. You are stronger than you believe. Keep holding on. Don't let go of hope."
"For the longest time, I saw myself as an outsider. I watched myself smile, laugh, and have fun, but I didn't feel it. When I looked in the mirror, I didn't know the face that stared back at me. That's when I started cutting. It allowed me to feel my existence and pain, but a different kind of pain. A controlled pain that I was in charge of, I had some sense of control over my out-of-control life. Please don't go down that road, Cat. I had no one in my life back then. You have people who love you. Fans who look up to you. Be a role model to them because you never know what some of them may be going through."
"Use my pain as a tool to guide others?"
"Yeah, you told me before you wanted to be someone's inspiration. Make something positive out of something truly horrible. Love yourself a little stronger; it will be your richest blessing. I used my experience to help my victims see that they can survive the trauma rather than the aftermath. I made sure my kids know about consent, protection, and what rape does to a person's soul."
"You raised some amazing kids, Amanda. I am so sorry about CJ. He was Jade's best friend next to me. How is she? I haven't been able to see her."
When I look into Amanda's eyes after I mention her son's name, I see a window of emotions passing through tears masked up. I can't imagine the pain of losing a child. She's unable to speak for a moment. I worry I pushed her too far. I asked a question too personal. "How are you doing?"
"Numb." She answers honestly. However, her voice holds the world's weight in its tone. "I dream about my little angel every night when I get to sleep. He's visiting me to tell me he's okay and that heaven is too beautiful to describe, but I miss him, Cat. Fuck, I miss him with something so fierce. I need to hold my little man in my arms. Parents aren't supposed to outlive their children."
I reach over and squeeze her shoulder. Her voice is tight. "In chapter 7 of the book the interpretation of dreams, written in the 1900s by Sigmund Freud, Freud mentioned a dream about the context of a woman who lost a child and then had a dream of her visitation. In this particular proclaimed chapter - the dream conclusion was focused on her dealing with her grief. Freud delved into the psychological aspects of having such a dream; Sigmund Freud believed the dream of her deceased child directly resulted from the dreamer dealing with loss and bridging the gap between life and death. However, the question on one's mind when experiencing such dreams is whether this is a visitation dream. Was it a means for your child to communicate with you? For me, as I said, it's CJ being the sweet, sweet child of Jesus that he was in this life. He was always checking on his friends and family. He was the caregiver to all his hospital friends when he was hospitalized; no matter how sick or scared he was, CJ always found time and strength to visit and chat with friends and ask them how they were doing or what they needed. He was heaven-sent, Cat. My sweet child to balance out my little devil AJ. I always knew my children were on loan from God, even knowing he had the right to call them back home at any time. It doesn't make it easier to grasp or accept."
"I'm sure it doesn't; it makes you wonder why some people are only here for a short time. Is it to teach us a lesson? Reward us with a little sprinkle of heaven and make us feel peace even after they are gone. They touch our lives and make love a little stronger. Make us feel blessed so we can remember these feelings when they are gone and we are struggling. I can't help but wonder why I deserved a friend as amazing as CJ. I'm trying to reach inside now and think of what he would have said if he had lived. What advice would he give me to walk through this shadow of pain? He would probably say some poetic shit. Close your eyes, Cat. It deepens your understanding of yourself and others, helps you grow and develop new skills, and helps you learn that strength and vulnerability are not incompatible. In other words, while being raped can shake your soul initially, with the right help and guidance, it does not have to stay that way forever." Amanda laughs, her head dipping forward to almost touch my chest as she shakes from laughter. "Yes, that shit sounds just like my son, the public speaker. He gets it from his mama."
"Holidays are a tough time to grieve, not only in the immediate aftermath of the killing but also for years – and decades – to come. I've seen many families cancel their holiday celebrations while others modify them. I couldn't imagine not giving Mazie and AJ Christmas or Thanksgiving, though. They didn't die. They are alive and deserve to feel the joy and love of the holiday season. CJ loved Christmas. It was his season of hope, faith, love, and giving, so even though he died the day before Christmas; we spent Christmas giving back to the hospital's children. We bought presents and gave each child a photocard with CJ's picture and a few facts about him on the back because giving to others felt more like honoring him than sitting around crying. We couldn't leave the hospital anyway, with Jade being so critical. So, this made our lives feel richer."
"He was taken too soon, Amanda. All because of Remi. I know she's your daughter, but her jealousy started this. Her hate spread this virus. Please, tell me she'll be charged. Did they catch the bastards who raped me?"
"Yes, they caught the boys who did this to you. The one Sutton tackled folded like a limp sack of balls. Freddie Walters is seventeen, and when we threatened him with adult time, he led us to the boys with him. How much do you want to know, Cat?"
"All of it, Amanda." She sighs, crosses her legs, and a light flickers inside her eyes. Gone is the mother grieving for her son. Now she's in cop mode. "The one who raped you, his name is Terrence Terry Chenoweth. He is fifteen, the boy who recorded your rape is named Bryson Chenoweth, and he is fourteen. He's Terry's brother."
"All three are being held until their trial, and Alex, the District Attorney prosecuting your rape case, will push for the max for all three. Alex is fierce, and she fights for the victims. The boys could flip on each other, and one could get a deal."
"What's the max, Amanda, and what are the chances they will get it?"
"Rape is a serious crime in California, and its punishments are severe. A conviction carries sentences of up to eight years in prison, ranging as high as 13 years if the victim was a minor. You are, so, under California's Megan's Law, a rape conviction can also carry lifetime registration as a sex offender. It's rare for a rapist to get the full-time they deserve. My best guess, Cat, is that Terry will get somewhere in the middle. We won't need to go to trial if he corporates and pleads are guilty. They will shave time off his sentence because of his age and clean record. He'll have to register as a sex offender, limiting his future. Alex will need to call you to the stand. If we go to trial, it won't be easy, Cat; they will tear you apart on the stand. I don't want to scare you, but rape victims are often made out to be responsible for the violation. They will question you about your sex life, and Remi's recording will be put in as evidence. They will drill you about your sexual history, so if you haven't been honest with the police, you must be Cat. Anything the defense finds will be used, and if Alex is shocked in court, she can't prepare a strategy to challenge, to defend you."
I bite my lower lip. Do I tell Amanda about having sex with Noah? Will she tell Olivia? How much trouble will Noah get into? If they prove Sutton shot Remi in defense of me, they will need to prove I was raped. I don't want this trial to be blown on a technology error, so is keeping his secret worth me getting justice, and how could it affect my brother's case?
"Yeah, there's something, Amanda. You won't like it." I sigh. She holds my hands. "I won't get mad, Cat. I know it's hard to talk about your personal life, Cat."
"I had sex with Noah so did Jade. We didn't force him. Noah wanted to have sex; he said his mom was too protective and never talked to him about sex; he felt like he was playing catch up to his friends, making him feel like a loser. He felt he was ready to have sex and wanted to experience being with a woman."
Amanda sighs long and deep. "Jesus, you slept with my ex-bosses, kid. Poor Noah when he fesses up. Shit, Olivia will wet herself with anger. Cat, your secret is safe with me, but you must tell Alex. She won't tell Olivia. It stays between you two—client privilege. I'll talk to Noah. He needs to tell his mom himself."
"Please tell me you were safe."
"We were, and Jade told him about her status; he understood Amanda."
"That's good; I know how careful Jade is with her status, so I know she would be responsible."
"Amanda, how is Jade? She's got to be so angry with her status being made public. Has the paparazzi been insane?"
"Yeah, she's getting calls like crazy we had to shut off her cell phone. The media has blown this all-up paparazzi have been camped outside both houses and here for days, and fans have been arrested for trying to sneak inside. The producers for Act-Up have been here almost daily, threatening to cancel the show because of the sex scandal. They are in some war right now with the network. The network wants to cancel the show, but the producers want to spin this shit for publicity and use Jade as some sympathy poster. The Price of Aids Awareness. Jade is angry and scared but won't talk to me."
"What's going to happen to her now? Will CPS take her and Ryan away?"
"No, I already stepped up and took custody of them. I talked to Mazie and AJ they agreed to move to LA is our only choice. Jade and Ryan need us. We're going to move into Gaelic Revival. Caitlin left it to Jade in her will. She can't inherit it till she's eighteen, but I will take charge of everything now. The judge already signed off on everything."
"Wow, that was fast."
"Yeah. I made sure it went smoothly. Jade and Ryan don't need any more stress."
"Are you sure about moving to LA?"
"Yes, it's the right thing to do, and CJ will be buried in one of the Gaelic Revival memorial gardens plots. He will lay forever in rest where he was killed by his great aunt and all our family members. I want to be close to my family. My sister Kim and my mom both agreed to move here as well. We will all drive each other fucking insane, but at least they are banding together to help Jade and Ryan. Your mom has been amazing as well. She's agreed to help us as much as possible."
"Wow, I barely saw her this last week. She's been so engrossed in finding Sutton. My entire family has been."
"I know, Cat. I am sorry you've been left alone with all of this going on. If you need anything, please know I am here."
"Thanks, Amanda. Um, I am sorry for being so rude back at the event. You aren't responsible for Remi's choices." She shrugs. "Maybe I am. She wouldn't feel helpless and unloved if I were a better parent."
"You can't change who she became, Amanda, and only Remi can be held accountable for her actions. She made those choices, and she knew right from wrong. I'm tired, though. Can we see Jade? I want to lay with her for a bit. Now that she's out of ICU."
Amanda nods and helps me up; my body is sore from sitting for so long. She helps me to stroll down the hall. Resting my head against her shoulder, I close my eyes, letting her guide me. I can hear the sounds of crying babies and scared children, mixed with the laughter of children at play in the sunroom. Beeping machines and passing carts rushing feet and hushed voices. I hear no danger, though. It's almost peaceful to me. After the week, I've had filled with nightmares and restless sleep. Her hands soothe my back in tiny circles.
"We're here, Cat."
I open my eyes and find Jade curled up in the bed, her long raven hair flowing across the stark white pillow. "She looks paler than normal." "Yeah, she's been sick. Infections and low blood count. Pneumonia took over her lungs. She couldn't breathe on her own when she was brought in. So they hooked her to high-flow oxygen; she lost a good deal of blood. They've been giving her blood transfusions because she was bleeding internally for days. They tried intravenous fluids and blood transfusions to correct her unsafe drop in blood pressure. Finally, they had to perform a fasciotomy."
"Internal bleeding into an area such as the thigh can create high pressure and prevent blood flow to the rest of the leg. A surgeon cut deeply into her thigh to relieve pressure and gain access to stop the bleeding. She's doing better now. We're still waiting for lab results because doctors are concerned about her viral load."
"Can I sit with her and hold her hands?" "Sure. She looks asleep, but I'm sure she would love to see you when she awakes. Jade's been very worried and has already tried to rip out her IV's a few times to come to find you."
"Thank You for stopping her. She needs to rest." "You're welcome, Cat." I pull up a chair and take her hands into mine. Amanda pulls the blanket over Jade's trembling body. "Has she been having nightmares?" "I believe so, but she's trying to protect me, so she doesn't talk about it much and stares off into the distance. Do you want to lay down with her?"
"Can I?" Amanda nods and pulls the blankets down to help me behind Jade, carefully moving the IVs and tubes. Laying next to her, I feel her warmth as I slip my arms over her body almost instantly. Her hair spills over my body as her head rests on my chest. I feel her relax and roll over, cuddling me, and a soft moan escapes her mouth.
Amanda covers us as I close my eyes, stroking her hair. Being with her helps me feel better. Softly I sing to her a song our moms used to sing to us as babies and kids when we were sick or hurt.
"If life is a river and your heart is a boat
And just like a water baby, a baby is born to float
And if life is a wild wind that blows way on high
And your heart is Amelia dying to fly
Heaven knows no frontiers
And I've seen heaven in your eyes
And if life is a bar room in which we must wait
'Round the man with his fingers on the ivory gates
Where we sing until the dawn of our fears and our fates
And we stack all the dead men in self-addressed crates
In your eyes faint as the singing of a lark
That somehow, this black night
Feels warmer for the spark
Warmer for the spark
To hold us 'til the day
When fear will lose its grip."
"Cat?" Jade's eyes flutter open her voice is so soft I strain to hear her. "Yes, baby?" "You're here?" "Yes, I am here. It's okay to rest. I got you, sweetie."
Jade sighs softly and cuddles closer to me. "Thank God; I've been so worried. Are you okay? I am sorry I couldn't be there for you, Cat." "Jade, honey, you were shot and almost died. You don't need to apologize. I know you would have been there for me. I am sorry; I wasn't allowed in ICU to be there for you."
"I wouldn't want you to see me that way." I gently kiss her forehead. "We need to stop trying to protect each other." She chuckles softly. I sing the following verse to myself.
"And heaven has its way
Heaven knows no frontiers
And I've seen heaven in your eyes
If your life is a rough bed of brambles and nails.
And your spirit's a slave to man's whips and man's jails
Where your thirst and your hunger for justice and right
Then your heart is a pure flame of man's constant night
In your eyes faint as the singing of a lark
That somehow, this black night
Feels warmer for the spark
Warmer for the spark
To hold us 'til the day when fear will lose its grip."
She joins me in the next refrain of the chorus.
"And heaven has its way
And heaven has its way
When all will harmonize
And now it's in our hearts.
The dream will realize
Heaven knows no frontiers
And I've seen heaven in your eyes
Heaven knows no frontiers
And I've seen heaven in your eyes
."
A knock on the door makes us both look up. I see our doctor standing in the doorway. I swallow, having a bad feeling seeing the look on her face. "Cat, I figured I would find you here. I have some results for both of you. Do I have your permission to give them to you in front of each other?"
"Yes, of course."
Dr. MacMullen clears her throat and opens her chart. "Jade, I am sorry, but I ran the tests four times. The results never changed. Your CD4 count is only eighty-five. I suspected it was low when you came in with pneumonia, but we didn't get the results because of the holidays, and when you came in with the gunshot, we had to focus on getting you past the infections and blood loss before we could focus on running these tests."
"So, I am no longer in stage 2, right?"
"No, Jade, I am afraid it means you are in stage 3; a viral load lower than 200 cells indicates a change in status, as you already know. Stage 3 HIV, also known as AIDS, is the most advanced. It occurs when the immune system is damaged so it can no longer fight off infections. Your body is tired, Jade. Plain and simple. Bacillus cereus is the name of your infection from the gunshot wound. Its full production of beta-lactamase renders penicillins and cephalosporins predictably ineffective. We gave you a non-beta-lactam drug, ciprofloxacin which did help. Still, the infection had already spread to your bloodstream, causing another infection called sepsis which is the body's extreme response to an infection."
"In severe cases like yours, sepsis causes a dangerous drop in blood pressure. We call this septic shock. It can quickly lead to organ failures like your lungs, kidneys, and liver. This can be deadly. We managed to stop the sepsis from damaging your lungs, liver, and kidneys, but we couldn't stop it from damaging your heart. Between the blood loss and pneumonia, which puts a great strain on your lungs and causes your heart to work harder. Your heart was damaged, and I am afraid it's irreversible; the damage puts you at risk for heart attacks, and you've experienced muscle and tissue degradation due to the infection. An ejection fraction measurement under 40 is evidence of heart failure or cardiomyopathy."
"Your measurement was barely 20. We've determined through a cardiac catheterization that you have a form called dilated cardiomyopathy caused by viral myocarditis. There's no cure for DC. We'll start you on Diuretics, an Inotropic Agent called dopamine, which we hope increases blood pressure and the strength of heart contractions. Along with an afterload reducing agent called Angiotensin I Blocker, an anticoagulation medication, warfarin, to reduce blood clots."
"We want to place you on an Implantable Cardioverter Defibrillator; it's a form of a Pacemaker which are small, battery-operated devices that are placed under the skin of the chest or abdomen and attached to electrical wires leads that are threaded to the heart."
"Dr. McMullan, be straight with me; what are my chances of survival?"
"Jade. I'm sorry to tell you, but I won't lie. You deserve to know what your prognosis is. Between one-third and one-half of children with DCM progress to heart failure, death, or transplantation within two years of diagnosis. Your viral load status makes you ineligible to receive a heart transplant. If we can get your viral load up, we can reconsider your prognosis later. Right now, our main concern is keeping your heart stable enough to get you back on different antiviral medications."
"How advanced is my heart failure? What are my chances of getting through this to be eligible for a transplant?" "Jade, I can't give you the answer you want; these things are unpredictable. Your heart is damaged enough that you could have a heart attack at any moment, which is why we need to get the ICD implanted as soon as we can get you into the OR. To be frank with you, Jade. Organ transplants for people with HIV/AIDS have not gained widespread medical support, and there are still concerns regarding the long-term prognosis for HIV-positive transplant recipients. LACH is one of those hospitals which will not perform a transplant on a patient with HIV."
"So, even if I can get my viral load down. I can't get a transplant because I have HIV. So either way, I am going to die?"
"I can't answer that, Jade. There are hospitals out there that will perform these surgeries. Let's focus on getting the ICD implanted and your viral load up. I know it's scary. But we can beat this, Jade. You're a fighter. Don't give up now."
"Why shouldn't I? When my body tries to tell me, it's tired of fighting."
"Because Cat will need you in the next few months. Cat, I got the results back of your bloodwork. Sweetie, I am so sorry. It looks like you are pregnant."