I nodded and accessed the second voicemail message she had left.
“I got cut off,” Nadia said. “I can’t remember what I was saying. I think I was telling you about the transplant, but it’s a bit more complicated than that. I’m not sure if you heard, but I’m pregnant. I’m six months along, and I’m... I’m afraid about what’s going to happen to the baby. She’s too little to come out of my tummy now, so we have to wait until it’s safe to do a C-section. That’s why I’m calling.”
Her voice began to tremble, and I knew she was holding back tears. I locked eyes with my mother, who was white as a sheet.
“I don’t know if I can make it through all of this,” Nadia said, “and I’m worried about what will happen to my baby. Diana, will you please call? Will you take her if anything happens to me?”
She was cut off again, so I keyed in the code to listen to the third and final message.
This time, Nadia was weeping.
“Will you please call me? I’m all alone here, and I’m really scared. I don’t like my doctor, and I can’t call Rick. He doesn’t want the baby. I don’t want her to be left all alone in the world like I was. Please, Diana. Please call me.”
It ended there.
“Oh, my God. Did she leave a number?” Mom frantically asked.
I picked up my phone. “It’s listed on the call display.”
My hands shook uncontrollably as I dialed what I assumed was the Los Angeles hospital where Nadia was being treated.
Chapter Fifty-four
“NADIA, IS THIS you?” I paced back and forth beside the dining room table. “It’s Diana.”
“Oh, thank God,” she said on a sigh. “I can’t believe you called.”
“Of course I called,” I said. “How are you? Are they taking good care of you?”
Her voice was weak, as if she’d just woken from a nap. “I’m in intensive care, and the nurses are really nice. They seem to know what they’re doing, and the baby’s okay. They have her hooked up to a fetal monitor, so I can hear her heart beating all the time. Can you hear it?”
I strained to listen, and made out the faint rhythm of the monitor in the background. “Yes, I think I can.”
“I’m sorry about what happened between us,” Nadia said. “I wish I could take it all back. I never wanted to hurt you. It was the stupidest thing I ever did.”
“But if that hadn’t happened,” I said, needing to remind her of the only thing that mattered in that moment, “you wouldn’t be carrying that precious baby.”
She mumbled in agreement. “I’m still sorry.”
“I know you are.”
Did this mean I forgave her? I wondered as I paced back and forth in the dining room.
No, it couldn’t be that simple. I wished I could forget my suspicions from a year ago, how I confronted her about her relationship with Rick, and how she’d lied to my face.
I wished I could forget the angst that went on for weeks, and the explosive pain I felt when I caught her and Rick kissing in the elevator.
But that was not relevant now. There were other things far more pressing.
“Did you listen to all my messages?” Nadia asked. “Did you hear what I said about the baby, in case I don’t survive the surgeries?”
“You’re going to be fine,” I insisted, but my voice quivered on the last word. I honestly had no idea what her chances were. Twenty-five percent heart function didn’t sound good.
“I need you to do a few things for me, okay?” I said, aware of my parents watching me. “I need you to tell me the name of your doctor – the one you said you didn’t like.”
“His name is Dr. Jeffrey Vaughn. He’s a cardiologist here.”
“Okay. Good. Now I need you to give him permission to talk to me. Tell him I’m your twin sister and that I’m going to call him and find out everything that’s going on. Then I’m going to get on the first plane out of here. I’m in Boston right now, but I’ll be in LA as soon as possible. What you need to do is relax and not worry about anything. Can you do that?”
“Thank you so much.” She quietly cried.
I closed my eyes and felt her fear, as if it were my own. “I need to hang up now,” I said, “so that I can book the flight. I’ll call you when I know what time I’ll be arriving.”
“Okay.”
Lowering the phone to my side, I turned to face my parents. My throat closed up and a hot tear rolled down my cheek. “She’s my sister,” I said, “and I have to go to her.”
My mother nodded and rose from her chair. “Yes. I’ll come with you.”
Chapter Fifty-five
THE FIRST THING I did was book the flights to LA, but we couldn’t leave for a few hours, so I had time to call the hospital and speak with Dr. Vaughn.
I wasn’t sure exactly why Nadia didn’t like him, but at this point, I merely wanted to gather as much information as I could about her condition. He took the time to explain why a heart transplant was necessary, and he described the potential complications that could arise from her pregnancy.
After we hung up, I went online to do some research of my own, and wasn’t thrilled to discover that Dr. Vaughn had been successfully sued in the past. I understood that cardiac surgery was a high-risk profession, and it was not uncommon for surgeons to face lawsuits, but what I didn’t care for was the arrogance I had sensed on the phone.
I resolved to learn more when I met him face to face.
Ten hours later, our flight touched down at LAX. Mom and I got off the plane and took a cab straight to the hospital.
As we sped along the familiar Los Angeles freeway and cut through city streets I had once considered home, I felt no regret that I’d moved back to the east coast. In fact, I was surprised by my lack of nostalgia for LA. I was not sentimental about the years I’d spent here – I suppose my memory of the city had been fouled by the unpleasant circumstances of my departure.
When we arrived at the hospital entrance, I paid the cab driver, and Mom and I got out. The driver fetched our suitcases from the trunk, and we pulled them on their little rubber wheels through the doors and across the reception area to the elevators.
The sliding doors opened and we had to squeeze in. All the while, I tried to imagine how I was going to feel when I saw my twin again, after almost a full year.
In the end, I was not prepared for the emotions I would experience when I saw Nadia in the ICU.
Chapter Fifty-six
I WAS STILL angry with her, though I had to remind myself of that fact as I stood outside her room, looking in at her – so sick and weak – through the glass. She was six months pregnant, yet her face was gaunt. The sallow, pasty color of her skin disturbed me. It was like looking at myself in death’s doorway.
But she was not me, and I was not her.
Mom waited outside while I entered the room on my own. Nadia was asleep, so I stood over her bed for a few minutes and stared at her freely.
Despite what had occurred between us, I was still fascinated by our resemblance. I could stare at her all day. Meanwhile, my emotions oscillated back and forth. I was still angry, yet I felt a distant love inside me that somehow managed to wriggle out from under the shell of my resentment.
Perhaps she sensed my presence over her bed, because her eyes fluttered open and she turned her head on the pillow to look at me.
“Oh...” She reached for my hand. “You’re here.”
“Yes, I’m here.” I leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “How are you feeling?”
“Better. I can breathe all right, and the baby’s doing well.”
“That’s good news.”
“How was your flight?”
“It was fine.”
There was a noticeable awkwardness between us while we chatted about superficial things.
Working to stay focused on the here and now, and what needed to be done for her, I invited my mother in. She kissed Nadia on the cheek as well.
“You poor darling,” Mom
said. “Don’t you worry. We’re here now, and everything’s going to be fine.”
Nadia’s eyes welled up. “Thank you, Mrs. Moore.”
“It’s Sandra.”
For the next little while, we caught up on each other’s news. I told Nadia about the law practice I’d joined in Boston, and she talked to us about what it was like to be pregnant. She was proud to announce that she was recently promoted at work. We congratulated her, of course, but she wasn’t sure she would be able to return.
Later, Mom left to get a cup of coffee. As soon as Nadia and I were alone, she hit me with the question that had been weighing heavily on each of our minds.
“Have you thought about what I asked you on the phone?” she said.
I shifted in my chair. The fact is, I hadn’t thought about it much at all – I certainly hadn’t made any decisions – because I’d been too occupied with researching Nadia’s heart condition, looking into the results of heart transplant surgeries, and searching for the best doctors in the country. Planning for Nadia’s death hadn’t entered my mind, despite the fact that I was a lawyer and I knew how important it was to plan for these things.
“Obviously, we need to talk about it,” I said. “I don’t mean to sound pessimistic, but do you have a will? Everyone should have one,” I added, so as not to sound too morbid.
“No,” she replied. “Can you help me with that?”
“Of course. We can do it today. I’ll just take a few notes on my laptop.”
She nodded. “That will be good, but you still haven’t answered my question. Will you be my baby’s mother if something happens to me?”
God, the way she phrased the question made me feel as if I’d been hit across the back with a baseball bat. The lawyer in me would have used the word “legal guardian,” but a guardian was not what Nadia wanted.
“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” I said. “You’ll make it through this, and you’re going to be the baby’s mother.”
“Please, Diana,” she replied. “I know you don’t owe me any favors, and I certainly don’t deserve sympathy from you, but you have to say yes. I don’t know what I’ll do if you don’t.”
“You’ll survive,” I told her. “That’s what you’ll do.”
She shook her head and frowned in anger. “Don’t try to use that to motivate me to fight for my life. Believe me, I’m plenty motivated. I want to live so that I can raise this child. I want it more than anything. But I also know – perhaps better than anyone – that sometimes things don’t turn out the way you want them to. Life’s not like that.” She paused. “My baby can’t end up without a family. Please, just say yes.”
I swallowed over a painful lump in my throat and realized I couldn’t imagine my twin sister’s child ending up without a family either.
“Of course I’ll take her,” I replied. “If anything happens to you, I promise I’ll scale mountains to make sure she is never left alone. She’ll have all the love I have to give, and I’ll raise her as if she were my own.”
Strange, how there was almost no thinking involved. I realized in that moment that some decisions – even those that are enormous and far reaching – are simply made by the heart.
Chapter Fifty-seven
A WEEK LATER, Nadia was discharged from the hospital.
By then I considered myself a bit of an expert on C-sections, myocarditis, and all things relating to heart transplants – including the system that matched donors with patients, the complications that could arise during and after the surgery, and the prognosis and life expectancy for those who made it that far.
Two things I knew for sure – I didn’t want Nadia to go through this alone, nor did I want her to be treated by Dr. Vaughn. So, with her permission, I made arrangements to have her files sent to Massachusetts General Hospital, so that she could come home with me and live in Boston.
I found an excellent obstetrician, experienced in dealing with pregnancy complications due to heart conditions. Her name was Dr. Aline Jones, and I spoke to her on the phone. She sounded perfect for Nadia.
I also found a hotshot cardiac surgeon who appeared to walk on water. His name was Dr. Jacob Peterson, and he was one of the top transplant surgeons in the country. He had even dealt with a pregnant myocarditis patient in the recent past. That case was similar to Nadia’s, and the woman went on to have a successful heart transplant three months after delivering her healthy baby by C-section. This gave me hope.
I spent the week getting Nadia out of her apartment lease and arranging for movers to put all her furniture into storage, and ship her personal belongings to my home in Beacon Hill.
Since no commercial airline would permit Nadia to fly in her condition, we hired a private medevac plane to take the three of us home to Boston. Nadia did well during the flight, and my father picked us up at the airport.
When we arrived home, I settled Nadia comfortably in the spare bedroom. We went to sleep early, because we had an appointment first thing in the morning to meet her new doctor.
It will baffle me forever that when Dr. Peterson walked into his office, and I turned in my chair to watch him close the door, I felt no great spark of attraction or fascination. Upon first glance, I didn’t even find him terrible handsome. My only response was a thoughtful appreciation of his expert skills as a heart surgeon, and gratitude that he had taken Nadia on as a patient.
Nevertheless, I remember every single detail about his appearance that day: the white lab coat over a blue denim shirt, the loose-fitting jeans, and the well-worn running shoes on his feet. His hair was red, his complexion freckled, and he appeared to be about forty.
As he entered the room, he didn’t speak or make eye contact. His attention was focused on Nadia’s chart, which we had arranged to be sent from the hospital in LA.
He moved around his desk, sat down, and took another moment to finish reading the file before his green eyes finally lifted. He smiled at us, and the little laugh lines at the corners of his eyes made me wonder if he might be older than forty. Forty-five perhaps?
“You must be Nadia,” he cheerfully said, glancing at her belly.
“Yes,” she replied. “This is my sister, Diana.”
He inclined his head slightly as he looked at me, and to my surprise, I fell completely into the openness of his stare. Ordinarily, I was not a shy person, but I felt rather tongue-tied. Not because I was bowled over by any sort of romantic attraction; this was something else entirely. I was overwhelmed by the intelligence and confidence that radiated from his expression. Most importantly, I sensed in him a genuine kindness, a warmth and caring that convinced me I had made the right decision to bring Nadia all this way across the country. I felt very proud.
“You’re twins,” he said.
“Yes,” Nadia replied, and his gaze returned to her.
“I hear you flew back from LA only yesterday,” he said. “That was quite a brave feat in your condition. How was the flight, Nadia? Good service? Did they bring you lots of those little packets of peanuts?”
He was joking of course, because he knew I had hired a private medevac plane. I had discussed it with him on the phone days ago.
Nadia and I both chuckled, but I knew her nervousness about discussing her transplant matched mine.
“Well, it’s very nice to meet both of you,” he said, “and I want you to know that I’ll be working closely with Dr. Jones over the coming weeks. The priority right now is to take care of your baby, then we’ll start the screening process for the transplant.”
“What will that involve?” Nadia asked.
“Quite a lot of things, actually. First we’ll do a medical evaluation, some diagnostic tests to make sure you’re a good candidate. And you’ll see a social worker––”
I sat forward and interrupted him. “Why a social worker?”
His eyes turned to me, and again I felt knocked over.
“I’d like you both to become familiar with the resources available to you while you wait for th
e transplant. There are group sessions where you can meet other transplant candidates and recipients and learn from their experiences. There are support groups for family members as well.” He paused. “Coping with everything surrounding a transplant can be stressful. Most people find the sessions to be educational and helpful.”
Satisfied with his answer, I leaned back in my chair again.
“You’ll also see a psychiatrist,” he said to Nadia, “and a physical therapist who will work with you to make sure an appropriate level of exercise remains part of your life before and after the transplant. We have a transplant coordinator here, and she’ll be available to answer any questions you might have – about anything. Mostly, I want you to consider this evaluation period an opportunity for you to learn all about heart transplantation and get familiar with the process. That way, you’ll have appropriate information and time to consider all your options and decide whether or not you even want to move forward with it.”
“Is not having it even an option?” Nadia asked. “How long can I live with only twenty-five percent heart function?”
“It’s impossible to predict. Some people can live for years, while others...” He didn’t finish his sentence.
“How long will the wait be,” she asked, “if I decide to go ahead with it?”
“It depends how far up the list you are.” He spoke frankly, but there was always an undercurrent of positive encouragement in his voice. He was nothing like Dr. Vaughn. “Your position on the list can change depending on your health,” he continued, “and the health of others who are on the list with you. There are a lot of factors that go into determining a patient’s placement, and you’ll learn about those as we move along.”
I turned to Nadia. “I read that in our country, three thousand people are on the wait list for a heart transplant at any given time, and only two thousand donor hearts are available each year.”
“That’s about right,” Dr. Peterson said. “You’ve been doing your homework.”
The Color of Heaven Series [03] The Color of Hope Page 14
