A Change of Heart

4

"I have some good news and some bad news," Dr. O'Brien said. She was the first doctor I'd seen in six years, and I remember not trusting doctors in the past. But Dr. O'Brien had some Gatsby qualities that made me want to trust her. Her smile felt like a fireplace and she smelled like a bookstore.

"Give me the good news first." Under different circumstances, I would've preferred the bad news first to console myself with the good one afterward—like any other human being. But that day I couldn't stop touching the brand new ring on my finger; I thought nothing could bring me down. Dr. O'Brien placed her hands on the desk over the files. Trent reached for my hand; I wanted to keep feeling the ring but I guess holding his hand would do.

"The good news is we found the cause of your heart attacks." I tightened the grip on Trent's hand. "It's not your heart's fault, or really any organ's. It's a part of the costal cartilage that connects your sternum to the ribs. As you breathe, this may obstruct your heart and lead to a heart attack. And it has in fact done so thirteen times."

I started a deep breath until I thought about the heart and stopped it midway. "Why were they never able to tell this was the problem?" I asked, a hint of accusation in my voice.

"Well, when you're growing up some doctors tend to overlook certain anomalies, thinking they will right themselves when you come of age," Dr. O'Brien said, still wearing that smile.

"That's ridiculous," Trent said. I turned to look at him. It wasn't often that Trent spoke, so he must have really felt the need to say it. "Absurd is what it is, I'm telling you. If those scrubs had done their job the way they should—"

My free hand joined the ones we were holding, patting Trent's. "It's alright," I said. Not that I didn't agree with him. As a matter of fact, I would've made even more of a scene. But I was too happy and tranquil to let anything bother me.

Dr. O'Brien slowly took her eyes off Trent to come back to me. "That bit needs surgery," she said.

"I see." I was still in a good mood, though the thought of surgery did shift it a little. "Not right now, I hope. I need some time to get psychologically ready for it."

I heard Trent chuckling beside me. This time, he patted my hand. "Silly, it's already done," he said.

I let go of his hand and looked inside my shirt. To my surprise, I found a small bandage attached to my chest. "So it's all good now?" I asked, anticipation in my voice.

Dr. O'Brien tilted her head. "That brings me to the bad news. You see, your heart tissues are severely scarred from all the heart attacks. In short, Alice, your heart isn't long for this world. I want to enlist you for a heart transplant."

A heart transplant. I sighed. My hand was cold in Trent's grip. I was to be put under several examinations, Dr. O'Brien continued, physical, psychological, internal, external. My ears were ringing ever so slightly. My weak little heart had to go. I found the mere thought of changing heart unnatural, repulsive, perverse.

"If that's what it takes," I said, still sighing. "If that's the only way I can live happily, then let's do it."

A flapping of wings echoed in the room before Dr. O'Brien could say a word. Then more flapping. I turned to Trent and saw him wrestling something to his knees. Dr. O'Brien jumped to her feet and shrieked. "Sir, what were you thinking bringing that animal in here?!" she shouted.

"Animal?" Trent replied in a rather calm tone, still steadying his hands to his knees. But he couldn't keep it down for long and eventually, the duck got away from his grip. Dr. O'Brien screamed her lungs out as the duck flew from one corner of the room to the other, often banging against the window. Someone opened the door behind us.