SCI Topic #1: Take Heart
It’s one thing to have to be forced to make an impossible decision. It’s another animal entirely to have to learn to live with yourself again after making it, as unfair and impossible as it was to make. How do you wake up every morning and look in the mirror the same way knowing that the decision you made ended the life of somebody you loved with every fiber of your being? How are you supposed to pick yourself up and move on from that?
I kneel in the grass as a soft breeze, thick with the scent of the surrounding pine trees whispers past me. These are some of the questions running through my head as I stare at the bare patch of dirt cut into the earth before me. I let my gaze drift up to the small temporary marker at the head of the grave. Dennis O’Toole it reads in black felt ink. My best friend, my lover, my soulmate, my... everything… forever locked away under this patch of dirt because I made the choice to put him there.
*****
I woke up confused and a little disoriented to the sound of the telephone ringing. Apparently, I had fallen asleep in front of the television. Wiping away the haze of sleep, I picked up the telephone, wondering what time it was.
“Hello?”
“Is this Patrice O’Toole? Mrs. Dennis O’Toole?”
“Yes,” I replied. “How may I help you?”
“My name is Dr. Wells of County General and I’m sorry to be calling like this but there’s been a terrible accident.”
The horror within me grew as Dr. Wells told me of the drunk driver that had hit the car driven by my husband, carrying my son. By the time I hung up, the horror had turned to a numbness that filled my entire body. This couldn’t be right. This couldn’t have happened. Not to Dennis. Not to Alex. Not to me. I just knew that there had to be some horrible mistake and if I went down to the hospital, I’d be able to clear it up quickly. I dressed and hopped into my car, determined to do just that.
*****
Dr. Weber sat with me in a corner of an empty waiting room, trying to look patient but falling miserably short. His frustration with my inability to grasp the situation, to grasp the complex medical jargon he threw at me was obviously irritating him. I knew what he wanted from me, knew what he wanted me to say but I found myself unable to say the words. Tears rolled down my cheeks freely forcing Dr. Weber to look uncomfortable in addition to irritated.
“Mrs. O’Toole, this is the right thing to do,” he said brusquely. “You need to pull it together right now and make this decision.”
The sound of the sobs ripped from my body filled the waiting room. Weber cleared his throat, whether because he felt awkward or impatient, I didn’t know and I didn’t care. I couldn’t stop the sobs from coming nor did I want to.
“Dr. Weber,” I heard a new voice say. “A word please?”
Through my tears, I saw another doctor conferring with Weber just outside of the waiting room. Their repeated glances at me told me that I was the topic of conversation. After a brief exchange, Weber stalked off, his displeasure apparent. I looked down at the moist and crumpled tissue in my hand as the new doctor took the seat beside me.
“Mrs. O’Toole,” his voice was soft and gentle. “I’m Dr. Wells and I’m very sorry. Dr. Weber is one of the best surgeons I know but his… social skills could use a little work, I’m afraid.”
I wiped the tears from my cheeks and looked into his face. His eyes were kind and filled with compassion.
“I can’t even pretend to imagine how difficult of a time this is for you,” he said. “And I won’t patronize you by pretending that I can. However, there are some practical matters that need to be addressed.”
Fresh tears flowed down my cheeks. “Is it possible that Dennis will wake up?”
“The possibilities are very remote,” Wells said.
“But it is possible?”
“I very much doubt it,” he said gently. “For all intents and purposes, your husband is gone, Mrs. O’Toole. It’s the machines that are keeping his body alive right now.”
“And my son?” I asked. “Is it possible that a match on the donor registry can be found?”
Wells scratched his head. “In the time we have? It’s very unlikely. I know that you’re grasping at every possibility right now. That’s natural and that’s okay,” he said. “It takes time to process all of this.”
“Process it,” I replied sharply. “Process the fact that you want to take my husband’s heart and put it in my son’s body. Kill my husband to save my child when there is a possibility that both can come through this on their own? That’s what you’re proposing?”
Wells placed his hand over mine and looked me in the eye. “That is exactly what I’m proposing to you, Mrs. O’Toole,” he said softly. “Better to lose one than to lose both. It sounds cold and unfeeling and I’m so sorry for that. But-“
“So easy for you to say.”
“I know,” he replied. “And I’m very sorry to be so blunt. But our window of opportunity is small, Mrs. O’Toole. Please, take a little time to think about what I’ve said. There is a small chapel down the hall if you’re so inclined.”
Dennis would laugh to see me sitting in the small chapel, praying to a God I didn’t believe in for wisdom and guidance. In my heart, I wished for another way. A way to save them both. Rage coursed through my veins, rage at God for putting me here, rage at Dr. Wells for taking away any shred of hope inside of me. I wanted to smash something, destroy something, let the rage and my feeling of hopelessness and helplessness burn their way out of me. The sound of my sobs filled the chapel as the reality that there was no other way settled into my bones. Wiping my face the best I could, I stood up and gave one last look at the crucifix on the wall and went in search of Dr. Wells.
*****
Thunder rumbles in the distance, announcing the coming storm. Fresh tears spill down my cheeks as I lay the white rose, Dennis’ favorite flower, beneath the temporary grave marker.
“I miss you every day, sweetheart,” I say. “I wish there had been another way, that the doctors could have saved you both.”
I stand, knowing the decision I made was the right decision but hating myself and cursing God for having to make it. As I walk back to the car, I can see Alex in the passenger seat watching me and I wonder, not for the first time what thoughts must fill his head knowing that his father died so that he may live. All I can do is love Alex with every breath in my body, knowing the love he gives back to me comes not just from him but also from the heart of his father.