The Other Side of Tomorrow
Page 8
He leaves the room, but not before grasping my foot under the covers and giving it a shake with an encouraging smile.
“How long did it take?”
“Almost four hours, like they said. I want to hug you,” she blurts, “but I’m scared of hurting you.”
I open my arms. “You hugging me won’t hurt me. I promise.”
She smiles and hugs me, her body melting into mine as she releases her worry.
“I love you so much, Willa. I don’t tell you enough, but you girls are my entire world.”
When she releases me, she quickly wipes tears away as my dad returns with a nurse.
“Hey, sweetie, how are you feeling?” the nurse asks, checking my vitals on the machine.
“Good,” I reply. “Sore, of course, but I expected it to be worse.”
“Good, good,” she croons. “Well, right now we have a catheter in to collect your urine, and so far …” She bends to check the bag. “You’re producing the exact amount we want to see. Tomorrow morning I’ll come back and you’ll need to try to pee on your own. Are you thirsty? Can I get you some water? Ice?”
“Both, please.”
I hadn’t noticed until she mentioned water, but my mouth feels dry and sticky.
“All right, sweetie. I’ll be right back with that.”
She sweeps out of the room, the door closing lightly behind her.
“How are you really feeling?” my dad asks, leaning against the railing at the foot of the bed.
“Good,” I repeat like I told the nurse.
“You had major surgery—” he begins, but I shut him up.
“Dad,” I say in a warning tone. “Sadly, I’ve been through worse.”
He frowns. “I suppose you’re right.”
“I’m always right,” I goad with a laugh and he smiles.
“Only you, Willa, could have major surgery and be making light of it.”
Harlow steps up beside me and my mom moves back.
She takes my hand in hers. “I’m so, so, so happy for you.”
“Thank you for always being here for me.” It’s the only thing I can think to say, but it hardly seems to encompass exactly how I feel.
She bends and kisses my forehead. “Your life is going to change after this,” she whispers in my ear. “I can’t wait to see the amazing life you live.”
The nurse comes back in with two Styrofoam cups, a spoon stuck in one, and a bendy straw in the other.
She places the ice cup on the tray and hands me the water.
I sip it slowly, not wanting to get sick by drinking it too fast.
The water is cold on my tongue and the dryness evaporates.
“Are you in any pain?” the nurse asks. “I can get you medicine if you are.”
“Right now, I’m okay.”
She nods. “What they gave you earlier probably hasn’t worn off, but if that changes and you want something push your nurse call button or send out one of your family for me.” She smiles kindly and heads back out to tend to more patients.
I continue to sip my water—for once, with no fear of thinking about how much less I can drink later.
“Did you guys get a hotel?” I ask them.
My dad nods. “We thought it’d be best to have somewhere we can go to shower and for breaks.”
“Go back and get some sleep,” I tell them. “It’s late.”
“No, no.” My mom rushes past Harlow to my side. “We want to stay with you.”
“Mom,” I say, in the most reassuring tone I can muster. “I’m fine. I feel great, actually, for just having surgery. I’m going to drink my water, have some ice, and go to sleep. You guys should do the same and you can’t sleep here.” I indicate the three small chairs in the room, just basic chairs not even recliners. This room is much bigger than the holding one they had me in before going into surgery, but it’s still not large. There isn’t even a small love seat like some rooms have. “I have the nurses and doctors with me. Nothing is going to happen.”
She looks over at my dad, biting her lip.
“Willa, are you sure you want to be alone right now?” he asks me.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy you guys are here, but I’m going to go to sleep and you guys need to sleep too. It’s silly to try to do that here.”
The three of them exchange glances.
“Seriously,” I laugh. “I’ll be fine.”
My mom sighs. “Fine, okay. We’ll go, but we’ll be back early, hopefully before you’re awake. Do you need anything before we go?”
I think for a moment.
“Can you grab my book from my bag?” I ask, pointing to my backpack leaning against the wall in the corner.
My sister laughs. “We should’ve known she’d want her book.”
She goes over to my backpack and pulls it out, placing it on the tray beside my ice cup.
I finish my water and my mom takes the cup from me, handing it across the bed to my dad so he can throw it away.
“Go, go,” I encourage them. “I’m sure the nurse will call you if I need you.”
My mom nods. “Okay. I love you.” She kisses my cheek and moves out of the way so I can hug and say goodbye to my sister and dad.
I watch them leave, and I know they don’t want to go, and while their presence brings me comfort, I know they need their rest. I’m sure they haven’t slept at all since I woke them up this morning.
It’s crazy to think that only a matter of hours have passed since I got that phone call.
One phone call has changed my life forever.
I pick up my book and open it to the bookmarked page. I read while I munch on ice and it isn’t long until it feels impossible to hold my eyes open.
I put everything back on the tray and adjust the pillow.
My eyes barely close when sleep overtakes me once more.
I’m sitting up, eating French toast with a bowl of fruit when my family returns.
“You’re up early,” my mom exclaims, and I don’t know whether she’s merely surprised or happy.
“I was hungry,” I admit.
I woke up at five in the morning with my stomach growling. I rang for my nurse and she put in an order for my breakfast but it didn’t come until ten minutes ago, a little after seven.
At this point, my head throbs slightly with the need for food. I take small bites and chew them slowly, for fear of getting sick from lack of food and whatever kind of medicine might be in my system. I woke up at another point in the night and they had to give me medicine. I don’t remember the episode much, but I know there was crying involved.
“Well, I’m glad you’re feeling hungry.” She takes the seat nearest me, placing her purse on the floor.
They all look rested, but not well-rested, and freshly showered.
I wish I could shower, but I know my body isn’t ready for that yet. I haven’t even been up walking yet. They told me the doctor will be by soon to take the catheter out and then they want me to try to walk.
I’m scared it’s going to hurt, but I know fighting them will only keep me here longer and I want to go home.
I want to be in my bed, with my things, and I even want Perry. His furry body would provide much-needed, and appreciated, comfort at the moment.
Piercing a piece of cut up French toast, I dip it in the plastic container of syrup. It doesn’t taste that bad. I remember eating it almost every morning when I was in the hospital after my diagnosis.
“Did you guys eat?” I ask.
“We had some breakfast at the hotel before coming over,” my mom says. “Ours didn’t look quite as good as yours,” she jokes with a wink.
“Yeah, not much can beat this,” I joke back, taking another small bite.
So far, my stomach seems to be handling it well and seems to be rejoicing at the sugar hitting my system.
“How do you feel this morning?” my mom asks, and I can see the concern on her face that she’s been trying to hide since she walked in.
She nods. “That’s understandable. You’ve been through a lot. I talked to the nurse before we came in and she said the earliest you’d be home is tomorrow afternoon. They want to be able to monitor you closely right now to make sure there’s no chance your body is rejecting the kidney.”
At her words, I get a visual in my mind of cells in my body wearing punching gloves and attacking my new kidney. I force my fear away, knowing I can’t dwell on it.
We grow quiet and I finish my breakfast, lying back and waiting to see if any nausea hits, but it seems like I’m in the clear.
I pick up my book and begin to read to pass the time until the doctor comes. Outside, the sun begins to shine brighter.
Someone comes and takes my breakfast tray away. Two nurses come in, going over everything for shift change. My dad flips through a car magazine, Harlow scrolls on her phone, and my mom taps her foot nervously as her eyes dart around the room.
It isn’t long after that and the doctor comes in.
“Willa,” Dr. Marks beams, “you look good. How do you feel?”
“Better than I thought I would,” I admit.
“No pain?”
“Not right now.”
“Good. Well, let’s get this catheter out of you and see if we can get you up and walking.”
He clears my family out of the room and my new nurse comes in, closing the curtain across the windows overlooking the nurses’ station and the door.
I close my eyes while they remove the catheter, whimpering slightly from the pressure of release.
Finally, it’s out and I feel like I can breathe.
“You okay?” Dr. Marks asks.
“Y-Yeah.” My voice is slightly shaky.
“I know it’s not the best feeling,” he says in a sympathetic tone. “I’ll be back to check on you later. I’m going to leave you with Ashley here” —he glances at the brunette nurse— “and she’ll get you up and moving.”
He gives me one last smile before leaving.
“Let’s try getting out of the bed, sweetie,” she says coaxingly.
It doesn’t sound like it should be something hard. I mean, it’s not like they were operating on my feet or legs.
Unfortunately, that’s not the case.
Ashley takes my hands, helping me swing my legs out over the bed. I scoot my butt until my feet touch the floor.
“Apply as much pressure to my hands as you need to,” she says soothingly. “I’m here to help.”
I press down on my feet and move to stand, but as I do my body starts to collapse under me and I lean heavily into the nurse.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she coaxes when I whimper, nearly crying because I thought this would be easy. “Your body is weakened, and you’ve been through a lot. Take it easy.”
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly.
“That’s good.” She smiles as I take one small step.
I feel like a toddler being praised for making my first steps in the world.
She leads me around the room to the other side of the bed where she lets me climb in once more.
“That was good.” She fixes the blankets back over my legs. “I’m going to bring you some water and ice and try to get as much fluids in you as you can. It’s very important you start peeing on your own. You did still produce urine while on dialysis, correct?”
“Yeah, I did.”
I was considered one of the lucky ones because I still peed. A lot of people with kidney failure don’t produce any urine at all. While my body holds on to some fluids, their bodies holds onto all of it. They have to be even more watchful of their fluid intake and run a fine line between fluid overload and dehydration.
“That should definitely help you then. I’ll let your family back in and bring you water.”
She slips from the room, and I lean back on the pillows taking several deep breaths. I still feel overwhelmed, my emotions all over the place. It’s a lot to process. I’m sure I’ll feel a range of emotions for a while yet.
My family comes back into my room.
“How’d it go?” my mom asks, taking her seat once more at my side.
“Pretty good. It was harder to walk than I thought it’d be, but I did okay.”
Granted, it was only from one side of the bed to the other, but baby steps were probably best right now. I knew from prior information during previous hospital visits that many people weren’t out of the bed until day two, and this was only a little more than twenty-four hours after surgery. I was sure they were pushing me harder because of my younger age, as they should.
Ashley comes back into the room and places the water and ice on my tray.
“Drink,” she says in a playful warning tone.
I smile and pick up the cup taking a dramatic sip. She gives a thumbs up before leaving the room.
“Wanna play a game?” Harlow asks.
“What kind of game?” I hedge—one never knows with Harlow.
“I have LIFE on my phone—an app isn’t as fun as the actual board game, but I doubt they’d have let me sneak it out of the house to bring to the hospital.”
“And you’d be right,” my dad says, peering over the edge of his car magazine.
“That sounds fun,” I tell Harlow.
She jumps up and drags her chair around to the empty side of my bed, getting as close as she can. She rests her phone on the thick white blankets and brings up the app.
We pick our colors and she starts the game, the little stick women running to their vehicles.
We take our turns and start making up entire stories for our characters to make it even more interesting. By the end, we can’t stop laughing and play two more games—all the while I make sure to drink my water.
An hour passes before I finally, mercifully, feel like I have to pee.
I don’t think I’ve ever, in my entire seventeen years of life, felt thankful to have to go pee.
I press the button for my nurse and tell her. She clears my family out—since I’m still naked under my gown—and helps me walk to the bathroom.
“Pull that when you’re done.” She points to the string hanging from the wall with the large sign with red letters that declares PULL FOR NURSE ASSISTANCE.
“Okay,” I say as she closes the door behind her.
I sit.
And I sit.
And I wait.
“Come on,” I beg. “Just pee already.”
Nothing.
“Ugh,” I groan. “Please.”
I reach over and turn on the faucet on the sink. The trickling of the water helps me a little.
I loosen my shoulders and close my eyes.
“Breathe, Willa. Breathe.”
I can feel my body tensing up, and I know there’s no chance I’ll pee if I don’t calm down.
It’s amazing how something so simple suddenly becomes so complicated when you know you have to do it. That people are counting on it to happen.
There’s even a collection bowl attached to the toilet so they can measure how much urine I produce.
Like I said, pressure.
Finally, a little begins to trickle out.
I squeal with excitement and it stops.
“Well, shit,” I mutter to myself.
I sit a few minutes longer and manage to pee a little bit more.
I pull the string and Ashley comes in a moment later and helps me up and over to the sink to wash my hands before guiding me back to the bed.
“I didn’t do much,” I say, a single tear falling down my cheek.
“It’s okay,” she replies in an understanding tone. “We don’t expect much from the first time you go.”
“I think I got stage fright,” I admit with a laugh.
She laughs too. “
It happens to everyone, believe me.”
She helps me into the bed and I groan as I feel pain shoot up from my incision.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
I breathe out, sweat coating my brow. “Mhmm. I’m okay.”
The pain subsides and I cover my legs with the blankets.
“Do you need anything right now?”
I shake my head. “I’m fine.”
I pick up my cup of ice and use the spoon to scoop some up.
She lets my family back in and the first thing my mom asks is how it went. I begrudgingly admit not well.
I spend the rest of the day walking as much as I can and going to the bathroom every time I get the urge. By the next day I’m walking without help and peeing a normal amount, which is a huge relief. They monitor me closely still, but so far there are no signs of rejection and no need for dialysis to help the new kidney along. By the afternoon on the day after that they finally discharge me and send me home with an appointment to return in three days for a check up.
“Thank you for everything,” I tell Ashley who’s on duty as I’m released and the one to wheel me to the entrance where my dad has brought the car around to load me.
“No problem.” She smiles at me, putting the brakes on the wheelchair so I can’t roll away. “Good luck with everything, sweetie.”
She leaves me with my mom and sister, who carry my bag and wheel the cart of balloons and flowers that have been delivered over the last couple of days from friends and family.
Meredith’s family sent a huge bouquet of sunflowers, my favorite, and a gift card to Barnes and Noble.
Dad hops out of the car and helps my mom and sister load the trunk with everything.
Harlow helps me out of the wheelchair and I manage to get into the car on my own. I’m surprised by how quickly I’ve recovered but they explained that my body is so overjoyed to have a working kidney that the pain becomes minimal.
Harlow gets into the back beside me and hands me the kidney-shaped pillow the hospital gifted me.
“Thank you,” I tell her, and clutch it to my chest.
My mom and dad get in and Dad looks at me in the rearview mirror. “Is there anywhere you want to stop before we go home?” he asks me.
I shake my head. “Nope.”