Pig-Heart Boy

by Malorie Blackman

  Dad wrote to Dr Bryce, the man who’s going to give me a new heart, and he didn’t tell Mum. You can guess how that went down. But then Mum had a bombshell of her own. She was pregnant with you and Dad and I only got to find out because Mum didn’t want the X-ray machine to damage you. I can still see Dad’s face when Mum said that she was pregnant. He looked so hurt, so unhappy. I wish I’d been a fly on the wall in their bedroom later that night. Since then, they’ve been very polite to each other but they’re not behaving like my mum and dad any more. They are very tippy-toe careful around each other. It’s almost as if they’re working out exactly what they’re going to do and say before they stay in the same room with each other. That’s another reason why I’m desperate for this operation to work. If it doesn’t, I’m not sure Mum and Dad will still be together when you’re born.

  I don’t want you to blame me for that. God knows I already blame myself enough for the both of us. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about Mum and Dad, not myself.

  The thing to remember about Mum and Dad is that they don’t know everything. I’m not saying that they think they know everything. That’s not the case. But they do think they have all the answers! But that’s not just Mum and Dad really. That’s most, if not all grown-ups. They don’t like to be told things by anyone under twenty-one. It’s as if they believe that the whole world will think they’re stupid if we know something that they don’t. So watch out for that. It’s a real pain.

  I’m getting a bit tired now. I think I’ll sign off. Wish me luck. This is so strange. I keep talking to you as if you’re already here. I like talking to you. You’re a great listener! In my mind, I guess I think you are already here. I can’t wait to meet you. Let’s hope I get the chance.

  Chapter Twelve

  The Clinic

  I sat down on the edge of my single bed and looked around my new room. It was more like a hotel room than a hospital room. There was a television in one corner and a fridge in another. I had my own bathroom and there was even a wardrobe. It was certainly different to all the NHS hospital wards and rooms I’d stayed in before now! So this was what it was like to go into a private hospital! It must be brilliant to have lots of money! I glanced towards the door of my room wondering what was going on outside. Dr Bryce had asked my parents to step outside for a word and they’d been gone at least ten minutes. Part of me couldn’t help resenting the fact that the doctor was discussing things about me but not with me.

  I tilted my head back and closed my eyes. Truth to tell, I didn’t want to be alone – not now. Not with only a few days left before my operation. I didn’t like feeling this way. I felt like a baby but I couldn’t help it. This time next week it would all be over – one way or another. ‘Stop it!’ I told myself fiercely.

  I had to believe that everything would be fine. I had to have faith. If I didn’t believe it, then it wouldn’t happen. Just at that moment, the door opened.

  Mum entered the room, followed by Dr Bryce, Dr Ehrlich and Dad. Mum smiled. ‘Hi, dear. Are you OK?’

  I nodded eagerly, glad to see them.

  ‘We were just having a discussion about whether or not you should be allowed to keep your camcorder with you,’ said Mum.

  I frowned. ‘Yes. I definitely want it with me.’

  ‘Cameron, that’s a little difficult.’ Dr Bryce looked concerned. ‘For the first few days after the operation you won’t be in here. You’ll be in intensive care. We have to be very careful that you don’t pick up any infections.’

  ‘I want my camcorder . . .’ I insisted.

  ‘You’ll be too weak to use it.’

  ‘I still want it with me. Maybe one of the nurses could hold it while I talk to Alex.’

  ‘Cameron, I don’t want to be difficult—’

  ‘Please, Dr Bryce. That’s one of the things I’ve been most looking forward to – telling Alex how I’m feeling and that I’m still standing. Please.’

  Dr Bryce studied me long and hard. ‘Very well then. I’ll see what I can do.’

  I beamed at him. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I haven’t promised anything,’ he said quickly.

  ‘I know.’ I smiled again, knowing I’d won.

  ‘Hhmm!’ A trace of a smile flitted across the doctor’s face. ‘I’ll leave you to settle in. I’ll see you in about an hour, Cameron.’

  ‘More tests?’

  ‘More tests,’ he confirmed.

  During the last week, I’d had more tests at my local hospital than I could count – blood tests, urine tests, allergy tests – they’d even tested my number twos! I’d been hooked up to some strange-looking machine called an ECG or electrocardiogram so they could monitor my heart. I’d had dye pumped into me and so many X-rays taken of my chest, I was surprised I didn’t glow in the dark. And now I had more tests coming. Still, as long as the tests meant the operation would work.

  ‘How soon after the operation d’you reckon I can go home?’

  ‘You’ll be in intensive care for a while and then we’ll keep you in a bit longer than normal to make sure that everything is exactly as it should be. I don’t want to state a specific time at this stage. I wouldn’t want to give you a timetable and then something happens and we can’t keep to it. That would only make you and your parents worry. We’ll play it by ear. I think we’ll all know when you’re well enough to go home.’

  And that was his long-winded way of saying he didn’t know. I still had 1001 questions, but all at once I didn’t want to ask any of them. Not one. I’d ask them after the operation, not before.

  I’d wait until my eyes were open and the operation was behind me and I had all the time in the world.

  ‘Hello? Marlon?’

  ‘Cam! What’s happening? I came round to your house but no one was there. And then I phoned the hospital, but you weren’t there either.’ Marlon’s tone was close to frantic.

  I smiled. ‘Marlon, calm down.’

  ‘It’s not funny,’ Marlon snapped at me. He could obviously hear the smile in the tone of my voice. ‘I’ve been really worried.’

  ‘Sorry.’ Marlon really was a worry-wart! What Nan would call a fuss budget!

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘I’m . . . er . . .’ I wasn’t sure what to say. ‘I’m in hospital.’

  ‘But they told me you weren’t. I thought . . . you . . .’ Marlon’s voice was all funny and choked. ‘Can I come and see you?’

  ‘Marlon, I’m not in the local hospital.’

  ‘Where are you then?’

  ‘I’m in a private hospital.’ I lowered my voice, casting a guilty eye towards the door. ‘I’m going to have my heart operation tomorrow.’

  Silence.

  ‘Hello?’ I wondered if we’d been cut off. ‘Marlon?’

  ‘You’re having the transplant tomorrow?’ Marlon whispered.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you’re only telling me now? The day before?’

  ‘Well, I didn’t know the exact date myself until recently and Dr Bryce told all of us not to tell a soul, but I know I can trust you.’

  ‘You’re having your heart transplant tomorrow?’ Marlon repeated, stunned.

  ‘Yeah! Weird, isn’t it!’

  ‘Did they find a human donor?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘So this is going to be from a . . . pig?’ Marlon’s voice was getting quieter and quieter.

  ‘That’s right.’

  Silence.

  ‘Marlon, stop fading out on me,’ I said testily.

  ‘Aren’t you scared?’

  ‘A little bit . . . anxious.’ I shrugged. ‘But it’s simple. I have to choose between living and dying and I choose to live. Besides, I know It’s going to work. This time next week I’ll be fine and fighting fit.’

  ‘You’re not going to change your mind?’

  ‘Of course not,’ I scoffed. ‘What kind of question is that?’

  ‘But what if . . . what if it doesn’t work . . . ?’ Marlon asked unhappily.


  ‘It’ll work. And even if it doesn’t, at least I will have tried. If I had to do it all over again, I’d do the same thing tomorrow.’

  ‘You would?’

  ‘In a hot New York second.’ I smiled. ‘So wish me luck.’

  ‘Good luck.’

  A strange silence echoed between us. I thought Marlon would find more to say, but I was mistaken. I wanted to say more, but though the words tumbled around in my head, they refused to form proper sentences and come out. Besides, I didn’t want to get all mushy and gushy.

  ‘Anyway, I’ll talk to you after the operation.’

  ‘Can I come and see you after the operation?’

  ‘I don’t think so. I don’t think Dr Bryce will allow it, to be honest,’ I admitted. ‘But I’ll tell you what, I’ll ask him once I’m out of intensive care.’

  ‘D’you promise? ’Cos I want to see you,’ Marlon persisted.

  ‘I promise. I’ll phone you after the operation and let you know what happened.’

  ‘Make sure you do. I’ll be waiting,’ he replied.

  ‘So I’ll see you.’

  ‘Yeah. ’Bye.’

  ‘’Bye, Marlon.’ I put the phone down.

  I had no idea why I’d done that. I’d wanted to speak to Marlon but I’d ended up saying none of the things I’d wanted to say. But I felt strangely better. Someone outside my family and outside the clinic knew what was happening to me. It made it all seem more real somehow. Dr Bryce, Dr Ehrlich, this whole clinic – I could’ve dreamt the lot. Somehow, it felt as if I was in the middle of a dream. The whole idea was bizarre enough to be a dream. The only trouble was, I didn’t know whether or not I wanted to wake up yet.

  Well, Alex, here I am. This is my last message before the operation. I’m at Dr Bryce’s clinic now. I had a big breakfast, which is just as well, because Dr Bryce has just told me that I can’t have anything else to eat until after the operation. At first I was a bit put out about that, but just between you and me, my appetite has vanished. To be honest, I don’t think I could eat anything else. Come eight o’clock tonight I’ll probably have changed my mind – but then again, I don’t think so. I’m here, setting off on my journey into the unknown. I keep telling myself it’s an adventure. Thousands of lucky people around the world have heart transplants and do very nicely, thank you! So why shouldn’t I be one of them? And with all the anti-rejection drugs I’ll be taking, it doesn’t matter that my new heart was in a pig rather than a human first. My body won’t know the difference – and that’s what counts. I keep telling myself not to worry, I’ll be fine.

  But I’m scared. There – I’ve said it.

  I’m not just scared, I’m petrified. My stomach feels as if my breakfast is trying to smash its way out.

  Come on, Cameron. That’s enough. Alex, one day, you and I will watch this bit of my clips and we’ll both smile at how silly I was to worry. I can’t wait for that. I wish it was tomorrow. No. I wish it was the day after tomorrow. I’ve never wished my time away before. I want Mum and Dad to hug me, but if I asked them they’d know something was wrong.

  How can I tell them that the only thing wrong with me is that I’m so scared I want to cry? They’d think I was a real baby. And then they’d both start worrying about me worrying and we’d all be upset. So, until after the operation, I’ll smile at everyone who comes into the room until my jaw aches and if I feel like I’m about to blub, I’ll go into the bathroom and lock the door. Grown-ups do that all the time. Maybe I’m more grown-up than I ever thought.

  Oh, God, I’m crying now. Wait a minute . . . I need to go to the bathroom.

  That’s better. This tissue isn’t this soggy because I’ve been blubbing into it. I did blow my nose in it too – honest!

  Alex, I hope you don’t ever have to go through this. But you won’t. I know you won’t. You’ll be born fighting fit and healthy enough for the both of us. But what am I wittering about? I’ll soon be healthy and fit myself. We are going to have such fun. I can’t wait.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Hurt

  Someone was calling me – from far, far away. A quiet, muffled voice. ‘Cameron . . . CAMERON.’

  The voice grew louder and more urgent. It rushed at me like a Eurostar train. ‘Cameron. Cameron.’

  And then I was awake. It was dark. It took a few moments before I realized that my eyes were closed. But I was awake.

  ‘CAMERON, WAKE UP NOW. CAMERON.’

  I was awake.

  And my chest hurt. Not badly. But it ached. I tried to take a deep breath, but a spear of pain shot through me from front to back. I instantly held my breath, waiting for the pain to ease – which it did. Slowly, I opened my eyes.

  Dr Bryce and Dr Ehrlich were looking down at me. They wore masks and gloves but their eyes were happy. More than happy: their eyes shone with delight. That’s when I knew I’d had the operation.

  I’d made it. I was still here.

  I smiled and the effort exhausted me. I tried to speak but my tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth and my throat hurt. In fact my throat was hurting quite badly. I hadn’t expected that. I tried to swallow but my mouth was as dry as Mars.

  ‘Hello, Cameron.’ Dr Bryce beamed at me. Even with the mask over his face I could see that he was beaming.

  I raised my hand and put it over my throat.

  Dr Bryce nodded. ‘Try not to speak. You’ve had an airway down your throat so your throat will be sore for a day or two.’

  My heart’s gone!

  Only then did I remember. Only then did I dare to think it. My old, rubbishy heart had gone. And in its place – a brand-new, strong . . . pig’s heart.

  And then it happened. It crept up on me so slowly that I didn’t realize what was happening until I was in the middle of it. I was hurting. Well, not so much hurting as aching uncomfortably. My chest ached. My stomach ached. I wanted to cough. I had a headache. My throat ached. I felt sick. There was probably a millimetre-long hair on the back of my hand somewhere that was comfortable but that was about it.

  I tried to ask for help. I tried to tell the doctors how I felt. My tongue refused to move. The doctors continued to beam at me.

  ‘We’ll let you get your rest now,’ said Dr Bryce, ‘and when you wake up again, you can see your mum and dad.’

  I closed my eyes. And, just like that, I was out of it.

  For the next day I drifted in and out of myself. At least that’s what it felt like. I don’t remember too much about it. It just seemed that every time I opened my eyes, someone was smiling at me. Mum and Dad, the doctors, the nurses. I even dreamt that Trudy was smiling at me!

  And then at last I opened my eyes and I was awake – really awake – and aware.

  ‘How are we feeling, Cameron?’ Dr Ehrlich was instantly at my side – smiling.

  I coughed and instantly felt as if my chest was going to come apart.

  ‘You will have a cough for a couple of days. That’s the anaesthetic, I’m afraid. How’s your throat?’

  I swallowed hard. My mouth was no longer as dry as before. My throat wasn’t as sore either – thank goodness.

  ‘Better,’ I croaked.

  Was that really my voice? I sounded like a rusty frog!

  ‘Would you like a little ice to suck on?’

  ‘Yes, please.’ I was still croaking.

  The doctor used a teaspoon to fish a small chunk of ice out of the water jug on the table by my bed. She popped it into my grateful mouth. It was cool and wet and actually delicious.

  ‘You are doing phenomenally well. You can sit up and, if the tests we run today are favourable, maybe we’ll have you walking a couple of steps tomorrow.’

  I stared at the doctor. She had to be kidding. I’d only just had a heart operation. What was going on? Were they short of beds or something?

  ‘It’s quite common practice.’ The doctor’s smile broadened. She could obviously read my expression. ‘Not too long ago, it was standard practice to stay in bed f
or weeks after an operation. Now It’s recognized that that’s actually bad for you. We like to get our patients up and about as quickly as possible – even heart patients. D’you understand?’

  I nodded, looking around. I took more of an interest in my surroundings. I wasn’t in my room any more. There were machines all around me and I had an intravenous drip attached to each arm. Pads on my chest were hooked up to the heart monitor beside the bed. I had what looked like crocodile clips attached to the ends of two fingers and there was some kind of cuff around one of my ankles. I felt like Pinocchio before he had his strings cut! I looked up at the intravenous bags on either side of me. I pointed to the left one. ‘What’s in that?’ I indicated with my head.

  ‘It contains your anti-rejection drug,’ said Dr Ehrlich.

  ‘And that one?’

  ‘Dextrose and saline.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Sugar and salt water to make sure you don’t become dehydrated.’

  Dr Bryce entered the room. ‘How are we feeling today?’

  ‘Fine.’ I shrugged. And I was feeling fine – in a peculiarly detached kind of way. Somehow it was all a bit of an anticlimax. I’d spent so many weeks thinking about the operation and the days leading up to it that I hadn’t really given much thought to what would happen afterwards. And now here I was with not much of a clue as to what should or would happen next.

  ‘We’re amazed with your progress. You’re doing extremely well,’ Dr Bryce told me.

  ‘Does that mean I can go home soon?’ I asked.

  There was no escaping the look that passed between Dr Bryce and Dr Ehrlich.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ I asked immediately.

  ‘Nothing for you to worry about.’ Dr Bryce’s smile was as wide as it was false.

  I studied him carefully. ‘I thought you were going to be honest with me and not treat me like an idiot,’ I said, disappointed.