Chapter Three

Bianca

"So, Bianca, lay back on that table for me." The nurse wheels the EKG cart closer to the exam table before beginning to affix the electrodes. To distract myself, I glance at her name tag. Caraline.

I turn my head slowly to look at the EKG machine. After so many EKGs, I can read it easily. The damage in my heart is advancing.

"Okay, can you slowly sit up for me?" Caraline holds her hands out. I grab them and allow her to slowly pull me into a sitting position. She takes another peek at the EKG machine before disconnecting me.

"Dr. Brinkman will be in shortly." She smiles at Mom and me before exiting the room.

"Quick EKG." Mom's eyebrows are drawn together in concern.

"Yeah. Maybe no news is good news, though." I'm trying to see the bright side. Since I got sick, there has been no good news as far as my heart goes. It's been one piece of bad news after another.

Dr. Brinkman enters the room a few moments later. He's a tall, balding man, with glasses on a chain around his neck. He offers a handshake to both me and Mom before pushing his rolling stool up to the computer to look at my chart.

"You've been sick for quite some time." he says after glancing through it.

"Two years now." I squeeze the edge of the exam table.

"The damage has been progressive. It started with shortness of breath?" He turns to face me.

"Yeah. Along with swollen legs and vomiting." I lift a shoulder in a half shrug. The swollen legs thing has gotten worse. Some days, I'm swollen head to toe.

"Have you considered the artificial heart? It appears you may be a good candidate for one."

"We have considered it." Mom twists her hands together in her lap. "Bianca and I are concerned about the upkeep of such a device. And the infection risk is great. She won't be given a transplant if she's in sepsis."

"Yes. I see. Well, as it stands, we have three options here." Dr. Brinkman turns to me. "We can either put you on the artificial heart, put you on 24/7 oxygen support, or admit you to the hospital until a heart is available, which could be over a year." The last one is definitely not an option for me. I hate hospitals. Spent way too much time in them already.

"What would the oxygen support look like?" I ask, shifting a little on the exam table. The paper crinkles loudly beneath me.

"An oxygen tank with a mask. You would have two; a portable one, and one you keep in your room for at night." Mom and I exchange a look.

"It's your choice, Bee." she says finally.

"Can we try the oxygen first? And leave the artificial heart as a second option?"

I can't explain what it is exactly about the artificial heart, or ventricular assist device, that freaks me out so much. Maybe it's because it's a pump in my chest that's connected through a hole in my ribcage out to a controller by a thin tube. Maybe it's the idea of being a cyborg. I'm not quite sure, but I want to do whatever I can to avoid that.

"Alright. I do want to admit you to the hospital for more detailed tests, but after that, we will go with the oxygen tank."

Hospitals are all the same. A lumpy mattress, a TV mounted at just the wrong angle on the wall, and nurses and doctors who come in every fifteen minutes or so to poke and prod you. This one is no exception. But at least I don't have a roommate this time.

"I brought your homework." Byron drops a pile of books on the rolling tray table. "Brady asked about you."

"Yeah?" I shift in the bed and adjust the oxygen mask over my nose and mouth.

"Yeah. He seemed bummed you weren't here today." Byron very carefully avoids any of the tubes and wires sticking out of me to give me a quick hug. "When are they gonna spring you this time?"

"No clue. I think they want to do a heart cath and some other tests. Maybe this weekend?" I flip through the pile of books and papers Byron left on my hospital table.

"What do you want me to tell anyone who asks where you're at?" Byron has always been willing to cover for me, so that my illness doesn't become a source of school gossip.

"Say I had the flu." I answer. I must have had the flu more than any other seventeen-year-old, but it's a convenient excuse to get out of any awkward questions.

Nights at the hospital are the worst. They turn the lights down, but it's still bright enough to know you aren't home. It's too bright to fall asleep easily, and the lumpy mattress digs into your back as you try to make yourself comfortable.

In the background, you can hear whispers of nurses and doctors, bleeping from monitors hooked to patients, and the hushed and hurried footsteps of the staff. If you're really unlucky, sometimes you hear a code blue.

Every time I hear one, I always wonder about the person who it's called on. Did they have a family? Friends? Was someone crying for them right now?

And then I start to worry that one will be called on me. That my heart will finally give out, and I'd stop breathing. Byron and Mom would be devastated. Gianna might not know what happened at first, but once she figured it out, she'd be devastated, too.

There are some days when I don't think I can do this anymore. Some days where the fatigue or the constant stream of pills, or the fact that I'm always struggling for air, gets the best of me. Some days where I just want to quit. But I know I can't. My family is my reason for surviving. My family is the reason I will never stop fighting.

A/n: Surprise, I'm not dead. I think at this point it's easier to say I'm just not consistent, no matter what I do. Life is insane, and I'm trying to balance a lot of responsibilities at once. Also, I've been sick, like, three times since my last update. Nevertheless, I'm gonna try to get more steady updates out. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Later!

Lauren.

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