“This isn’t fair.” Ben closed his eyes, fighting back his own tears.
“So, then everything stopped. She pulled out the needle, slapped on a Band-Aid—in five minutes, everything had fallen apart.” Riley continued to rock, desperate to ease the pain crushing her heart. “I didn’t know where to go. You and Piper were working, Casey’s on vacation…I couldn’t speak to Mom—not yet.”
“You can always call me, ’kay? I’ll drop everything.” Ben pulled her into his chest and cradled the back of her head. “I’m so sorry.”
“I can’t believe it’s over…it hasn’t even begun.” She hiccupped into more tears and buried her nose in the softness of Ben’s t-shirt. “It’s not fair. She even has the most common blood type…”
“Which is what?”
Riley cried through her reply. “O positive, but who cares! Mine’s not compatible…I can’t save her, Ben!”
Swallowing thickly, he rocked with her in his arms, his hand gently rubbing her back. Their embrace was silent except for Riley’s sobs and Ben sniffing his nose. After holding her closely for a few minutes, he whispered into her hair. “Riles?”
“Hmm?” Nose congested, she sucked in breaths through her mouth.
“Maybe…I can?”
Riley lifted her head from Ben’s tear-soaked shirt.
“Maybe I can help Maggie.”
“You…? How?”
“She’s O positive?”
“Yeah?”
“Well…so am I.”
Wide-eyed, Maggie sat down at her table as her daughter, Ben, and Piper—who had faked a stomach bug to flee work—served up mac ’n’ cheese and salad. “I…I don’t know what to say.”
Riley grinned, her eyes still puffy from crying hours earlier. I don’t either. How do I even begin to thank my new boyfriend for offering to donate his liver? She set a plate down in front of Maggie. “Mom’s speechless—well, that’s a miracle!”
Maggie gave Riley one of those looks only a mother can give and then turned to Ben, warmly covering his hand with hers. “Ben, that’s incredibly kind of you, but I can’t let you donate.”
Ben sipped his water and smiled. “But I want to. Look, I know we haven’t known each other long, but you and Riley mean a lot to me and”—Maggie opened her mouth to interject, but he cut her off, blurting the words out as fast as he could—“I can’t sit back and do nothing, not if I can make a difference. I’d never be able to live with myself.”
Riley’s mom shook her head. “Ben, you can’t rush into this.”
“Believe me, I’m not.” He grinned. “Riley and I talked—for hours.”
“Yeah, we talked and cried and talked some more.” She smiled back at Ben. He’s seen me at my worst and didn’t walk away.
“Riley only agreed on two conditions: one, I wasn’t offering because I felt like I had to, and two, I wouldn’t try to win future arguments with ‘but I gave your mom my liver!’”
Riley leaned into Piper. “I mean, talk about fighting unfair.”
Ben picked up his fork. “So, we called the coordinator. One of the transplant surgeons was free, so we had a wee chat. He asked me some questions, made sure I understood booze is a no-go if I want to donate, and gave me the thumbs-up—I meet the initial criteria to be your donor.”
Tears brightening her eyes, Maggie squeezed his hand. “Ben, this is too much to ask.”
“I mean, it’s early days. I’ve passed the blood type test and nothing else, but”—he let go of Maggie’s hand so she could wipe away a few tears—“it’s worth a shot, right?”
Riley leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.
“Well, Benjamuffin, I’ll say it if no one else will—dude, you’re my frickin’ hero!” Piper winked and sprinkled pepper on her dinner. “This is the most romantic thing ever, saving the life of your girlfriend’s m—” Riley kicked Piper under the table. “Ahhh—well, it is!”
Ben blushed over a forkful of salad. “They emailed me an info packet, so we started to make a list of questions for Thursday.”
“So soon?” Maggie glanced at her daughter.
“His blood work, physical, and liver CT scan are Thursday, which means, no eating after 10 P.M. Wednesday.”
Ben made a face and chewed quickly, swallowing before talking. “And I’m seeing a liver doctor, a psychologist, and an ethics specialist.” He looked at his girlfriend. “Did I forget anyone?”
“A living donor advocate and a surgeon.” Riley dug her fork into her salad and exhaled, feeling the weight of the day. “It’s gonna be a busy one.”
Ben nodded. “And then Friday is a chat with an anesthesiologist. What else…oh yeah, a heart test and a MR-something.”
“MRCP, another test that looks at the liver,” said Riley, reading notes on her phone. “They said Ben should know if he’s donor material by late next week.”
Piper gulped her Fanta. “Before Labor Day weekend? They don’t waste any time.”
“Nope,” said Ben. “So, surgery could happen early September. You ready, Maggie?”
“Everything’s moving so fast. I wish you’d think about this a bit longer.” Maggie scratched her head, the patchy regrowth of her hair—once brown and wavy—coming in auburn and straight.
“I’ve done my thinking. Now it’s time to get rolling.” Ben smiled, sampling the cheesy macaroni.
“Mom, don’t bother trying to change his mind.” Riley smirked at him. “You think I’m stubborn…”
“But what about missing work?” Maggie leaned in.
“I’m pretty fit from cycling, and the doc said that works in my favor. The healthier I am, the easier the recovery, the earlier I can go back. Hunter will be cool about time off, and Stavros, my diner boss, will understand. He just marked five years with his sister’s kidney!”
Maggie shook her head. “But you’ll lose thousands in lost wages. My insurance will cover some of your medical bills, but not all, and it won’t take care of your food, travel costs, rent…”
“The doc told me about a few organizations that offer short-term financial assistance.”
“But you have to apply…oh, Ben, I don’t want you taking out loans for this.”
“I’ll be fine, Maggie—really.”
Mom’s not backing down. Riley’s chest tightened. Should I…?
“Ben, I can’t let you donate AND get yourself into debt, it’s too—”
Riley cut her off. “The crowdfunding page will help.”
“The what?” Confusion clouded Maggie’s gaze.
“Uh…” Riley winced. “In April, we started a fundraising page for your medical expenses.”
“Fundraising?”
“Yeah.”
“It was my idea, Maggie.” Piper came to Riley’s aid, opening the page on her phone and handing it to Maggie. “Sorry. I shoulda asked first.” She gulped.
“Strangers…” Maggie squinted at the screen, reading. “Two thousand dollars?!” Her mouth fell open. “People donated this…for me?”
Riley nodded.
“It’ll pay for some medications, taxis to the doctor, a few bills even,” said Ben.
“I was going to tell you…” Riley leaned toward her mom.
“You kids…” Maggie shook her head as she blinked back sudden tears. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”
“You’re not mad?” asked Riley.
Maggie shook her head. “You did this out of love, wanting to help…” She fanned her face, unsuccessfully trying to curb her tears. “Come here, all of you.” Riley, Ben, and Piper left their seats to gather around her for a group hug.
Ben tried his best to keep it together while the girls found Maggie’s tears too contagious.
“Okay, let’s stop this crying.” Maggie laughed, wiping her eyes. “Ben, I’ve got one condition: if you have the operation, I want you to move in with me while you recover.”
“Uh, really?” Ben raised his eyebrows. “Why?”
Maggie touched his forearm. “That
crowdfunding money could help both of us and stretch a lot further if you stayed here. You wouldn’t have to pay rent or buy your own groceries, and we could schedule follow-up appointments together, take one cab to the hospital instead of two.”
“Yeah! I’m not letting either of you take public transport while you’re recovering.” Riley tossed back her water with an emphatic glug. “And selfishly, both of you living here would be a huge help. You could keep tabs on each other. I’d worry a lot less when I head back to work.”
“And Riley would only have to visit one place to see both of you—saves time.” Piper popped a cucumber slice in her mouth, proud of herself.
“I know my foldout couch isn’t the Four Seasons, but—”
“Believe me, Mom, your foldout is better than that sad sofa Ben sleeps on at Hunter’s.” She pointed her fork. “Don’t deny it. You’re always complaining about how lumpy it is.”
“I don’t know…” Ben winced, shaking his head. “I’d feel like I was imposing.”
“You won’t be—I want you here,” said Maggie. “I can’t let you do this without a little mothering.”
Riley nodded at Ben. “She’s right.”
“I’m not gonna win this argument, am I?” Ben smiled and reached for Maggie’s hand. “Deal.”
Fifty-One
Nine days later
Ben wouldn’t stop playing with the plastic anatomical model of a liver he’d found on the doctor’s desk. “I know, right? Hunter is such a legend! He didn’t even let on he was doing a fundraiser, crafty bastard!”
“Twelve hundred dollars? How many lap dances is that? I have to thank him. Can you give me his—” Looking up from her chair, Riley did a double take. “Ben, put that back! The surgeon will be here any minute. You might brea—”
The plastic gallbladder pinged off. “Ahh, shit!” He ducked out of his chair, retrieving the errant organ from across the desk.
“Ben!”
Just my luck! He couldn’t get the gallbladder to snap back into place. “What’s the crowdfunding page at now, then?” he asked, examining the two organs closely, trying to see how they might reconnect.
“Just over four thousand—Ben, hurry—”
“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Dr. Ricer, one of the surgeons on the transplant team, strode through the door, shutting it behind him. “Please, have a seat.”
Ben smiled, hid the broken organs behind his back, and sat down.
“Beautiful day today.” Riley smiled, trying to distract the doctor.
“Summer’s last gasp—must enjoy it while we can.” Dr. Ricer opened Ben’s file on the desk. “So, I’m not sure congratulations is the right word, but Benjamin…you’re in!” The surgeon grinned behind his neatly trimmed beard. “The donation team agreed you’d be a suitable donor for Maggie.”
“Brilliant! Drinks are on me!” Catching the doctor’s smile slip, Ben corrected course. “Just joking!”
Dr. Ricer flipped a page of Ben’s medical notes. “Kidding aside, giving the gift of an organ is a generous gesture, and a serious decision. I know you’ve thought long and hard about this, but as we’ve already discussed, you can change your mind at any time, Benjamin, right up to the day of surgery—”
“Ben, please, and I won’t change my mind.” He squeezed Riley’s hand and let go.
“Your gift has a high likelihood of curing Maggie’s cancer, but there’s always a chance it will come back and your sacrifice won’t have its intended result. Some donors decide they can’t go through with it because there’s no guarantee of a positive outcome.”
“I realize that, but what in life is guaranteed? I could get run over by a bus leaving here today.” Ben shook his head. “Nope, we have to try.”
The surgeon smiled and scratched his shoulder through his scrubs. “I know it sounds like I’m giving you the doomsday take on living organ donation, but we just have to make certain you’re aware of all the facts and risks before we move forward.”
“Gotcha. Yeah, it’s a huge decision and I’m not taking it lightly.” Ben reached over and swept a piece of hair from Riley’s eyes. “I’ve become close to Maggie, and I know how much she means to Riley. Look, if this was happening to my mum, I’d hope someone would do the same for her. So…I’m all in.”
Riley let out a shaky breath and blinked back a tear, a smile flirting with her mouth.
“Well, it’s good you have the support of Riley and Maggie.” Dr. Ricer turned over a page in Ben’s file. “Now, I see for family, it’s just you and your mother? And she’s aware of your decision?”
He nodded. “Yeah, just me and Mum. She’s concerned, obviously, but she respects my decision.”
“Good.” The surgeon wrote something quickly in the file. “Now, I’ll run through the risks a final time, and if either of you have questions, don’t hesitate to jump in.”
Both Ben and Riley nodded.
“Donor surgery involves general anesthesia, and like any medical procedure where the patient is unconscious, there can be complications including blood clots, heart problems, and bleeding that might require a blood transfusion. These complications don’t happen too often.”
“That’s good.” Riley exhaled nervously.
“Now, when we look at post-operative risks directly connected to liver donation, it’s important to note that a small number of donors have had some sort of complication. They can be mild, like post-surgery nausea, constipation, small bile leaks from your liver, or minor wound infections. These problems usually resolve—” The surgeon’s phone rang. Dr. Ricer glanced at it then flipped it over, face down. “Within a few weeks.”
Wait, wait, back up. “A leak?” Ben chewed his lip. “How would you know…?”
“Well, you’ll have one or two small drainage tubes in your abdomen to drain any blood or bile that may leak from your liver. Those tubes are usually removed after two or three days. If there’s a lot of bile in the drainage and it’s accompanied by chills, nausea, or swelling, we’ll intervene and operate right away.”
Christ, that sounds bad. Ben screwed up his face.
“And that’s a minor complication?” Riley fiddled with the puffin charm on her bracelet. “What are the major ones?”
The surgeon folded his hands on the desk. “Serious complications can include failure of the remaining left lobe to function or death, but the chances of either happening are very low.”
Riley shifted in her seat and wrapped her arms around her middle. “Low…but not impossible.” She swallowed and stared at her boyfriend.
She’s fretting. Lighten the mood. Ben looked ahead, serious and reserved. “And when can I drink again? I’ll need a pint when all this is done.”
Riley’s expression softened.
“One of the great ironies,” said the doctor. “Unfortunately, Ben, you’ll have to hold off on having a hard-earned drink for six months after surgery—”
Shit-bollocks-fuck it! “Really? That long?”
“And even then, just small amounts for a while. Your liver will be recovering and growing. Metabolizing alcohol won’t be at the top of its to-do list.”
“Slacker organ.” Ben leaned forward, his gaze unwavering. “What about sex?”
Riley did a double take.
“Oh, Riles, I gotta ask.” He laughed.
“Sex will have to wait, too. During the post-operative period, specifically the first three months, you might feel weak or have some discomfort in your abdomen. Some donors have reported lower sexual functioning—that’s issues with erections, having orgasms—during this time, but those problems do improve and return to normal as recovery progresses.”
No booze, no sex…I didn’t even think… “So what you’re saying is, I’ll basically be livin’ like a monk for a bit?”
The surgeon nodded slowly. “Your body won’t return to normal overnight. It’s major surgery, Ben.”
Toying with her bracelet again, Riley shifted in her chair. “I read something about the gallbladder b
eing removed, too. Is that true?”
Yeah, it’s behind me! Ben stifled a chuckle, pretending it was an awkward sneeze. Riley shot him some side-eye.
“Yes. I’ll show you why…” Dr. Ricer’s eyes searched his desk.
Shit. He’s looking for the model. Ben stared into space.
“Hmm, one of the interns must have it. Well…” The surgeon pointed at his own abdomen. “It sits in front of the right lobe of the liver here, so it has to be removed to enable access. The gallbladder aids in digestion, but Ben shouldn’t have any major issues without it. Sometimes digesting fatty or spicy foods can cause discomfort. Our nutritionist will go over a meal plan with you, post-op. It’s usually recommended that you avoid certain foods for a while, things like French fries, ice cream, potato chips.”
“No crisps, no booze, no sex…got it.” Ben cleared his throat. “And how long will I be off work exactly?”
“Every donor is different, but we find most are off for three to six weeks post-surgery, longer if the job is physically demanding.” Dr. Ricer referred to his papers again. “You’re…a bike courier and a waiter—you’ll have to play it by ear, Ben. Cycling around Manhattan and bussing tables is about as far as you can get from a desk job.”
Jeez. It all feels so real now. Ben’s face fell.
Pulling her jean jacket sleeves over her hands, Riley looked down, her green eyes glassy.
“Look.” The surgeon took a deep breath and leaned forward. “Being a living organ donor is not easy. It’s no surprise people change their minds. It’s an enormous ask.”
Ben chewed his lip. But Maggie never asked—not for cancer, not for recurrences—and she’d never ask me or Riley—or anyone—to save her life. He inhaled deeply and let the breath slowly exit his lungs, watching Riley quiet and still, staring at her lap like she was determined not to sway him one way or the other. It won’t be easy, but…I can skip all the fun stuff for a few months. My ‘suffering’ doesn’t compare with anything Maggie’s gone through—or the agony she’ll go through if I don’t do this… He blinked and sat up, putting his hand on Riley’s knee. “It’s a big ask, but I still want to do it.”
Until The Last Star Fades Page 31
