Chapter 3

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Melanie's POV:

We are about to go out with Trudy, this concert was magical, and Harry spoke to me! That is a bonus! I am in my bubble! Trudy and I sit in the car and drive for my home, St Mary's Hospital. I am exhausted, I am not used to go out that long. After a few minutes I fall asleep in the car.

I wake up when I feel that I am no longer sitting but someone is carrying me, I open my eyes and I saw Dr. White's face. He still looks so serious it is amazing, I think that in 19 years of existence in this hospital, I have never seen him smile or even sketch a slight grin. I think his face will crack!

He drops me off on my bed and makes my connections for the night. Yes, I must be hooked up to an electrocardiogram and I have a pocket of liquid medication that needs to be administered intravenously. Moreover, I must be registered by ECG by the Holter method. This recording is usually used to diagnose abnormal heart rhythms, specifically to find the origin of palpitations or dizziness. And so, in my case, it will be used for any abnormalities found during my sleep.

When I woke up, I am sweaty, I slept very badly, and my heart hardly hurt me all night. Unfortunately, it happens to me more and more. Trudy came to check my recordings and my electrocardiogram, and it turns out I had an arrhythmia that night plus heart contractions every half hour, which explains my pain. Last I heard, the doctors say that if I do not have a donor, I will not pass the 30-year old. It scares me so much! It is in such a short time and there are so many things I would like to do before I die! I should make a list.

Today, I was supposed to have a sports exam with an electrocardiogram of stress to check the reactions of my heart during sustained physical activity. But in view of the night I spent, it will be pushed back to tomorrow.

I spent my day in bed reading, listening to music, chilling out on Netflix and YouTube. It was long, very long even. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if I had a visit from my friends or family. My father died before I was born, he was a soldier in the United States Army, and on a mission in Afghanistan, he was executed. My mother, on the other hand, abandoned me 11 years ago, when she could no longer afford to raise me and pay for my medical care. All I have left are pictures as memories of my parents. Sometimes I think my dad is watching over me and other times I wonder if my mother thinks of me sometimes.

On these memories I fell asleep until the day after a banal day will take place again.

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