Patience & Fortitude
The call from the Transplant Team came while I was at the grocery store.
It wasn't "THE call, " although I'm always steeled for it-- the call where they tell me that I won the lotto and need to get myself to the hospital to swap out the old heart for a new one. There's not a central phone number it will come from, I'm told, it could be any area code, so I always have to answer unknown numbers now. But I often wonder if it could also come from the Transplant Team, so my heart jumps every time I see that name come up on my phone, because here's how you find out you've won the new heart lotto:
They call the patient's first phone number to tell them it's time. This is my mobile number.
If there is no answer, they call the patient's second phone number to tell them it's time. This is Derek's mobile number.
If there is no answer, they call the patient's third phone number to tell them it's time. This is our home phone number.
They leave a message with each successive unanswered phone call.
I have 10 minutes to call back. If I don't call back, the heart and the life it brings goes to the next patient on The List.
So my phone rings there in the Meat department and like some ordinary asshole, I answer it while looking at the Ribeyes and New York Strips, like it's a call that can't wait until I finish grocery shopping, because unbeknownst to everyone around me it actually could be a matter of life or fucking death. (Side note: Suitably, the assigned ring tone to the Transplant Team is the chorus to Wham's truly obnoxious "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" and poor Derek is probably going to have PTSD every time this song plays for the rest of his life.)
It was Sue, and as my heart flipped crazily around my chest like a spastic flea, she asked me why I wanted to get a Yellow Fever vaccination. This is, apparently, an odd request, but the answer is really quite simple: If I don't get the Yellow Fever vaccination prior to my transplant, I will never be able to get it. And if I don't get it, there are large parts of the world that will forever be off-limits to me. And one of those parts of the world is where the gorillas live in Africa.
If you know me, you likely know that I care deeply about animal conservation and that traveling to Africa is a lifelong dream of mine. In fact, the first short story I ever wrote as an imaginative and garrulous 8-year old child was titled "The Lion at the Library." In this tale, one of the cement guardian lions at the New York Public Library comes to life and tells me all about the amazing animals I will see when I travel to Africa as an adult.
When I met Derek 36 years later, I was thrilled to learn that this was a shared and deeply-yearned for dream. We talked about going to Africa for years and had begun planning a 2017 trip... but then Jackson was diagnosed with lymphoma and we spent our travel budget on his treatment. Then my sweet Jackson died and two months later so did I. And then a few months after that, I found myself needing a new heart and physically unable to walk on my own property, much less climb the misty mountains of a third world nation.
So I'm standing there amongst the packaged meats and the retirees and young mothers shopping on a weekday afternoon and explaining to Sue that without the Yellow Fever vaccine prior to my heart transplant, I will never complete the #1 thing on my Bucket List (in fact, it's quite literally the only thing on my Bucket List at the moment). And as I listen, Sue is coming across as strangely resistant to this wish and explaining she's been on the phone with the Infectious Disease nurse (it was actually my Infectious Disease doctor who told me I'd need the vaccine pre-transplant)... and finally she says that they think they can arrange this vaccine for me. But she's going to have move me to Status 7 for 30 days in order to do so.
Status 7 means you are "temporarily inactive" on The List. So if your perfect heart comes up during that time, the new life it offers you is passed along to the next patient.
You guys, I was pretty close to a total public meltdown at this point. I feel like I have been a really good sport about everything that they have taken away from me: Alcohol, caffeine, sodium, trans fats, most forms of physical activity... And post-transplant I have to give up working with animals, getting a puppy or kitten, sushi, raw oysters, caviar, anything less than a well-done steak and many other foods that I love to eat. I've also accepted the risk of contracting HIV and Hepatitis C from my donor, and I've agreed to deal with the health issues/diseases that could happen post-transplant like diabetes, cancer, high blood pressure, high cholesterol and hardening of the arteries, among other things. I'm about maxed out on sacrifice.
So I wasn't giving up my gorillas. And I was ready to make my stand: They can't take large parts of Africa and South America away from me. I may have to get sawed in half and walk across broken glass barefoot to get there, but by God, I'm going to see gorillas in the wild and I'm going to see the Amazon and I'm going to do whatever the fuck I feel like doing with my new heart and my new life. So with tears starting to course down my cheeks, I told Sue that I'm fine with losing 30 days on The List and, in that time frame, maybe missing out on an early new heart. I won't lose the dreams I have left. She said she understood and would call Infectious Disease and get back with me.
And then I realized I should probably talk to Derek about this. So I texted him, because of course these are the discussions one has via text:
A: I just heard from Sue at UW. I will have to go off The List for 30 days after I get the Yellow Fever vaccine. It's still worth it to me. Do you agree?
D: Yes
So that settles it. Gorillas, you're on notice. I'm eventually coming to see you and I expect to be accepted into your group like a long-lost family member. I'm putting a lot on the line for you.
Incidentally, here's something that you probably didn't know about those two guardian lions at the New York Public Library: Their names are Patience & Fortitude.
Indeed.