Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
JACK
This was the worst part for me: the waiting. I was an impatient person, especially when it came to saving Hannah’s life.
It had been six hours since they took over twenty vials of blood from me. Hannah was hooked up to every tube and machine possible, and it was too heartbreaking to look at her, so her mother and I just sat on either side of her, holding two of her fingers each. The others were bandaged or trapped under an IV or wires.
Some more time passed, and they kicked us out of the ICU after only a thirty-minute visit. When we stepped into the waiting room, there was a doctor that was really well dressed and looked out of place. His salt-and-pepper hair was slicked back into a perfect swoop, and he wore dark-wash jeans and a crisp white button-down shirt with a doctor coat over that. But my eyes went to his shoes.
Prada.
He didn’t seem to fit in in Boise, Idaho, and when our gazes locked, he smiled and headed for me like he knew me.
“Jack Marrow?” he asked, glancing down at a printout with my picture on it.
Interesting.
“Yes,” I said as Claire stepped up beside me.
“I’m Doctor Andrews from the Mayo Clinic in Scottsdale, Arizona. Your assistant, Chloe, just paid me an eye-watering sum of money for me to take the next week off of my vacation and fly up here to help consult on your situation.”
I felt relief spread throughout my limbs. God bless Chloe . She knew what I needed before I did. I was totally giving her a raise, even if she wouldn’t take it.
“What kind of doctor are you?” Claire asked.
“I’m a surgeon specializing in kidney transplants,” he said. “I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes here, but?—”
“Step away,” Claire said. “I want my daughter to have the best care possible.”
Good. She could be a mama bear when she needed to be. I might need her to fight like that when the time came to get this guy in the O.R. and not Mr. Negative one in 100,000.
“Thank you so much for coming.” I shook his hand and introduced Claire.
We stepped into the quiet room and explained what we knew. He winced when we told him that Chloe was currently without her spleen, gallbladder, and both kidneys. And on dialysis.
“Even if we can find a partial match, I can get her on anti-rejection meds. How many people are we testing to find a match?” He looked at Claire, probably assuming she had been tested as her mother.
But she looked at me.
I cleared my throat. “Just me. And I’m sure I’m going to be a match,” I declared. I didn’t know a lot about God yet, and I admittedly hadn’t read the Bible, but I knew that Christianity was a religion based on faith, so I was clinging to that with everything I had.
I would be a match . A perfect match.
He was silent, appearing conflicted with my answer and obviously not waiting to rain on my parade. I glanced down at his chest and saw a small silver cross pendent hanging from a chain at his neck, so I knew then that God was in control and he’d sent this man.
“We’re walking in faith right now, Doctor Andrews,” Claire said, and I noticed her staring at the same cross necklace I was.
He nodded then, as if he understood. “Alright, have they done a C.T. scan to make sure you don’t have polycystic kidney disease or anything?” he asked me. “I always check that on my donors before we go into surgery.”
I shook my head, and he stood.
“Let’s do it,” I said.
He then looked at Claire. “I’m going to need you to sign permission for me to consult on Hannah’s case. They won’t like some fancy doctor from Scottsdale coming in here, telling them how to do their job, but I am licensed in Idaho because I have a vacation home in Sandpoint, so legally, I can do this surgery if they are willing.”
With that, we approached the nurses’ desk and eventually were referred to administration. We then got embroiled in two hours of paperwork and red tape. In the end, Dr. Andrews, Claire, and I had to sign waivers saying we wouldn’t sue the hospital for anything he did. Then Dr. Andrews had to call his insurance company and get some extra coverage. And finally, Dr. Negative, who I’d learned was named Dr. Carter, had to approve Dr. Andrews. I guessed Dr. Andrews was a big deal in the medical community and the local Boise doctors were honored to watch him work and ask questions.
After all that, I was finally taken for my C.T. We were still awaiting the blood results to see if I was a match. By the time I got back from the C.T. scan, I found the waiting room empty of Claire. Dr. Andrews was off familiarizing himself with the staff and Hannah’s case.
“She went in search of food. Told me to tell you,” some older woman said. She’d been here all day too, and I wondered if whoever she was waiting for was okay.
I nodded and thanked her.
When I got to the cafeteria, I smiled when I saw Claire. She was eating a sandwich and reading something on her phone. This woman had been incredibly strong today. Even now, with only a few inches of hair, which I knew was because she’d only just been cancer-free for short a while, she powered through this like a champion. Dr. Andrews told me not to eat anything in case I needed the surgery quickly. It was past dinnertime, but I didn’t care about hunger right now.
“What are you reading?” I asked her as I sat down.
“The Bible,” she said softly and patted the seat next to her.
I scooted over so that I could see the verse.
“I know you’re new to this, but when we ask God for something, it’s best to praise Him for it before it’s even manifested. As a show of faith that we expect it,” she said. “So I’m doing that.”
I looked down at the verse.
“I will give thanks to you, Lord, with all my heart; I will tell of all your wonderful deeds. I will be glad and rejoice in you; I will sing the praises of your name, O Most High.” Psalm 9:1-2
“I like that,” I told her before silently thanking God for making me a perfect match for Hannah.
“So, how did you suddenly become a believer?” she asked, raising one eyebrow.
I smiled, feeling lighter than I had in years, despite the horrible situation we were in.
“Well, it took three songs,” I said and then told her the story of Pete and what had happened in my car.
She grasped the sides of my face, cupping it in her hands. “God leaves the ninety-nine sheep to go after the one lost one.” She touched my nose. “That’s you.”
“Hey, that’s what Hannah texted me right before…” I trailed off.
She nodded. “Hannah knew. You’re a found sheep now. Welcome to the herd, Jack. Life won’t be perfect, but it’s better with God.”
I squeezed her hand, grateful for her encouragement. Then my gaze flicked to the doorway where Dr. Andrews had just run in, holding a stack of papers. My heart seized in my chest as he ran over and slammed them on the table.
“Jack, you’re a perfect match for Hannah. She won’t even need anti-rejection meds.”
Claire burst into tears beside me, and I couldn’t help the huge grin that graced my face.
Thank You, God. Thank You, thank You, thank You.
“But we do have a problem,” he said, flicking his gaze around the room to a couple sitting near us.
“What is it?” Claire’s hand slipped into mine and squeezed.
Dr. Andrews sat down at the table and leaned in, lowering his voice. “Jack, I’m guessing you didn’t know that you have something called Von Willebrand Disease, also known as VWD. It’s a genetic clotting disorder which makes you very high risk for a surgery like this. You could bleed out.”
“What?” I leaned in to make sure I heard him properly.
A clotting disorder?
Dr. Andrews nodded. “Most people can go their whole life without knowing they have it until they get surgery or an injury. Do you bruise easily? Have trouble clotting?” He asked.
I nodded, but I was barely listening.
Clotting disorder. Genetic. Can go your whole life without knowing.
“Could my mother have had it?” I asked suddenly as the wheels in my head started to turn.
The paramedics on the scene had said that our accident shouldn’t have been fatal. I hadn’t been speeding. My mother had hit her head and sustained a laceration, but she’d bled out way too fast for what the paramedics thought was normal. I had been too devastated to draw any conclusions from that, but now…
“Absolutely,” Dr. Andrews said.
“She died in a car accident, but they said she shouldn’t have bled out like that,” I told him.
He frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that, Jack. I would be willing to bet she had this too, and it was the reason for her rapid blood loss.”
Everything clicked in that moment, like a puzzle finally coming together. Was it still my fault that she’d died? Yes. But…it made sense. It made it a freak accident. It was an accident.
“If she’d known…would she still be…” I couldn’t finish the words.
Dr. Andrews nodded. “Likely, yes. She’d still be alive. There are medications you can take. And after this, I’ll want you to meet with a hematologist to work on a plan.”
“After this? So you can still do the surgery?” I asked him.
Dr. Andrews smiled. “Jack, God must be looking out for you because bleeding disorders are actually my specialty. I get called in to perform surgery on VWD patients often. There are risks, and we can talk about that, but if you decide to do the surgery, you’re in good hands.”
“I’m doing it,” I told him.
“Well, hang on, Jack. Let’s hear about the risks.” Claire was still holding my hand.
I loved her in that moment for her concern, but I didn’t care about the risks. I was doing this. God was giving me a chance to save a life and make up for the one I’d lost, so I was taking it.
An hour later, I’d signed my life away and listened to Dr. Andrews drone on about bleeding out on the operating table, surviving the procedure, and bleeding out after—and everything in between. He’d administered some type of medication that would thicken my blood, and I was ready to be taken back to prep.
I’d called and thanked Chloe for sending Dr. Andrews, and she said she was still trying to reach Cedric. I couldn’t worry about that, though. I had to focus on this surgery and pray I wouldn’t go back to prison for doing the right thing.
“God bless you, Jack,” Claire whispered in my ear. Then she kissed my cheek before a nurse took me into the operating room.
An eerie calm came over me then. I just knew I was going to be okay. No matter what happened, I would be okay. This newfound peace was so comforting that I wished I’d had it my entire life and I wanted to tell everyone about it. How at rest I felt in my soul.
I took a deep breath and smiled up at the nurse. I scanned her name tag and a lump formed in my throat.
Sonia .
There it was again. My mother’s name. Except this time, I didn’t want to break down and slip into a depression. I saw it as a blessing. A sign that my mother was looking out for me.
When I reached the O.R., Dr. Andrews was there with a scrub cap and blue gloves on. He was smiling. Even though he had a mask on, I could see it.
Leaning down, he whispered in my ear. “I talked to the big man upstairs and asked Him to guide my hands and protect you during the surgery.”
“Thank you,” I spoke through the lump in my throat.
As the nurse reached over to put an oxygen mask over my mouth, I saw a charm dangling from her bracelet.
A cross.
I smiled.
“You’re about the happiest patient I’ve had in a long time,” she said.
“I have a lot to be happy about,” I told her.
The anesthesiologist introduced himself then and clapped me on the shoulder. I glanced down at the tattoo on his biceps. A dove. I knew that was a Christian symbol, but I couldn’t remember of what.
It didn’t matter. God was showing me that He was all over this hospital, and as the anesthesia pulled me under, I knew that everything was going to be okay.