Even the stoutest cup of coffee couldn’t have coaxed her back to complete clarity. Nearly six thirty-five in the morning, Alex wasn’t certain how she’d last until her shift ended at seven.
The night had been anything but ordinary or passive. All critical, each of Alex’s patients required her complete attention throughout the night. This left little time for breaks of a biological nature or time to check up on her brother.
As the hour crept on, Alex slipped into the intensive care break room. Removing her phone, she was quick to glance over Tyson’s Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook to see if anything out of the ordinary had been posted.
As her butt met the worn couch her eyes bounced in her skull as she attempted to keep them fixed on her phone screen.
Nothing had been posted to Tyson’s accounts. Ever the investigator, Alex tapped the search bar to find Becca—perhaps she could offer some documented insight.
Among the recent names searched was Bishop’s. Instantly, her thought process shifted as she touched his smiling face on her screen, taking her to his profile.
The sensation of an actual knot formed within her throat as she glanced over his most recent post—from only a few hours prior.
Maybe it is too much…maybe it is too big…
What the hell could he mean by that? Surely not…
Just as her mind began venturing, the breakroom door flung open—producing a teary-eyed nurse.
“Tonya…are you okay?”
“I will be, Alex. I just hate seeing Dr. Jones like that.”
“She was over here? Was she a bitch to you or something?”
Making her way to the coffeepot, Tonya turned, smiling while shaking her head. “No. No she and I go way back. When she loses one she usually comes over from pediatrics to vent to me if I’m here. This one really got to her.”
A dizzying nausea overtook Alex as she absorbed Nurse Tonya’s words. “Loses one?”
“Yes, dear. Jessica Beck rejected her lungs. It was nearly two years.”
“Oh my God…she died?”
“About two hours ago. Poor baby…only eighteen.”
The walls around her were now coming in on her—chest tightening as Tyson’s face flooded her brain.
“Did you know her, Alex?”
In an effort to halt her hyperventilation, Alex focused solely on Tonya’s face. Slow…deep breaths.
Coffee in hand, Alex’s relief came through the breakroom door—smiling and ready for report.
***
Trembling as if they were the hands of a ninety-eight year old, Alex nearly lost her grip on her keys. Finally, she was in her apartment—their apartment. She raced to Tyson’s room, tearing the door open as the panic in her chest clawed from inside out.
And there he was—sleeping peacefully—his comforter to his chin.
Flinging the bedding from her sibling, she hugged him in the dark—sobbing.
“Hey!” Completely startled, Tyson worked to pry his sister off of him. “Alex! Is that you?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Alex! What’s…what the hell is wrong? What’s going on?”
“I love you, Tyson.”
“Alex! What happened?”
Releasing him, she felt instantly horrible at seeing the fear in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I was…I was just worried.”
“Worried…what the…about what, Alex? I tried to call you twice. I left a voicemail saying goodnight.”
“I know. I know, Ty. Dr. Jones lost a patient. A cystic fibrosis patient. She rejected her lungs.”
Squinting and propping himself up, Tyson scratched his head. “Did you know the patient or something?”
“No…no I just freaked out. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
A look sitting somewhere between amusement and irritation slid across Tyson’s shadowed face. “So you scare the shit out of me…wake me up on one of the few days I get to sleep in…and hug me all dramatic while I’m in nothing but my underwear? Awkward, Alex.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll make you breakfast. You want an omelet like I used to make—”
“I’m okay, Alex. We went over the results, the matching procedures and what they mean. My new lungs are perfect for me. I do exactly what Dr. Jones tells me to do and I’m getting stronger. I’m okay.”
“I know…I know, Ty. This is me being stupid.”
“Pretty mean.” Tyson offered a half smile, and then a yawn.
“Mean?”
“Waking me up…and it’s barely even light out. Mean.”
“I’m sorry, Ty. What do you want for breakfast?”
“I’m messin’ with you, Alex. Go to bed. I can cook my own breakfast.”
Briefly recalling the mess Tyson conjured the last time he’d attempted to showcase to culinary skills, Alex ruffled his already messy hair and smiled. “Seriously, I’m not even tired.”
“I guess. But I wanna help.”
“Okay. Get dressed, Ty.”
“Okay. Get out, Alex.”
In the kitchen, Alex paced—phone in hand. Finally, her courage and nerves had her thumb pressing call. Thirteen seconds later—she answered.
“Dr. Jones speaking.”
“Dr. Jones?”
“Dr. Jones speaking.”
“Hi. Um, it’s Alexandra Ayers.”
“Yes, that’s exactly who my phone said it was.”
“Sorry. I was wondering if you could possibly make some time to maybe…to possibly speak with me today—”
“Alexandra, is Tyson okay?” her forceful tone caught Alex off guard.
“Oh, yeah, he’s great.”
“Okay, I’m confused. What do we need to speak about?”
“I just…I just had some questions.”
“Regarding?”
“Regarding his health. His overall health and—”
“You just told me he was okay, did you not?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then my suggestion would be to compile these questions and prepare them for discussion during Tyson’s appointment on the seventeenth. That is if he wants you there and he is comfortable discussing whatever questions you might have.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Will that be all, Alexandra?”
“I just…I really just—”
“Alexandra, I’ll be rounding soon. Is there anything else I can do for you—”
“I’m scared, Dr. Jones.” The crack in Alex’s voice silenced the conversation for a few seconds.
“I’m listening. Tell me why you’re scared.”
“I…there was a patient you lost. I was working last night and I heard you lost a patient because her body rejected her lungs. I just want more information and I can’t keep…I can’t keep looking at WebMD and Google because it’s freaking me out. If you would just give me a few minutes—”
“Okay. Can you meet me at the bistro across the street from the hospital at um…eleven? No, wait, you worked last night. Meet me there at three, okay?”
“Okay. Thank you so much—”
“I’m getting paged. Bye now.”
Her scratchy eyes felt pried open as she stared down the countertop.
“What the hell, Alex?”
Startled, Alex turned to her sleepy sibling—the only thing added to his attire being wrinkled gym shorts.
“What? What the hell about what, Ty?”
“You haven’t even preheated the oven yet, dumbass. Go to sleep. You’re sleeping on the job as it is.”
“You little douche. I’m not leaving you to cook unsupervised. Besides, I feel like I haven’t seen you in like…forever.”
“Awe…you mith me, Alex.” Accepting his hug, Alex kissed her brother on top of his head.
“You’re silly.”
“That’s what I’m told.”
“Other than my intrusion did you sleep okay, Ty?”
As he walked to the fridge, stretching his balled fists to outward and yawning, he shook his head no. “Nah. I dreamt about her…again.”
“Mom?”
“Yep.”
“Oh.”
Milk jug in his hand, Alex pretended not to notice as he drank directly from the carton. Mouth wiped, he closed the fridge. “It’s like it’s her but it’s not. And then I wake up and I have this awful…just this awful sad and scary feeling. It’s not cool.”
“I’m sorry, Ty.”
“You should be…you still haven’t preheated the damn oven.”
***
The bistro was trendy yet being so close to a teaching hospital, it attracted an eclectic crowd. Some patrons appeared nearly transient, while others sported lab coats or suits.
Nestled in the corner—picking pieces of a bagel—Alex glanced about the bustling atmosphere while she waited for Dr. Jones to end her phone conversation.
“My apologies, Alexandra.”
“Oh no, don’t apologize. Thank you for meeting me. I know how busy you are.”
“Tyson’s well?”
“Yes. He’s doing great actually.”
“His appetite still healthy?”
“Oh my god, yes. That boy…and he’s doing great in school.”
The darks of her eyes had a narrowing quality about them as her gazed zeroed in on Alex. “May I ask why we’re here, Alex? Why are you fearful for your brother’s wellbeing?”
The question was baffling—derailing the small talk and passive smiles.
“Um…if…well if it can happen to her. I don’t know why we’re here. I guess I was looking for some sort of reassurance. I’m sorry.”
“Alexandra, our correspondence and interaction throughout the years has led me to believe you’re an intelligent young woman. You’re mindful of your craft and I’m sure you’re resourceful in regard to research. No two patients are the same—this you know.”
“I know. I just…I don’t know what I was…I’m sorry.” Diverting eye contact, Alex felt her eyes welling with tears.
“Sorry for what, Alexandra? If I’ve given you the impression that I’m upset, I apologize. That’s not the case.”
“I spent so long preparing myself for when he wasn’t here and forcing myself to imagine what life would look like here without him…and then…and then there was this chance. But this chance comes with this caveat—”
“Chance?” The sharp tone supporting Dr. Jones’ voice was no more. Her slender hand slid solemnly across the table, resting atop of Alex’s. “Alex, let us pretend for a moment that a hypothetical patient received a life-saving lung transplant. However, post-procedure and recovery, this recipient was not only non-compliant in regard to maintaining the therapeutic plan put into place, but she…but this patient blatantly refused any and all interventions, including medications required. This patient even smoked cigarettes. She was basically self-destructive.”
Dr. Jones paused slightly. “Now…let’s say we have another patient. This patient is not only active, and completely compliant, but his lungs couldn’t have been a more beautiful match. Everything was as it needed to be. This patient continues to prove each and every day that success stories are achievable. Perhaps this patient will need another transplant in the future…perhaps he will be a progressive leader for our country, who knows? But for now, I’m completely thrilled with the progress of this patient and comparing him…them to a patient at the opposite end of the spectrum is silly. Understand what we’ve done, Alex. Organ transplantation is exactly what it sounds like. Taking an organ out of one body and placing it into another. There are risks and there are failures. I am telling you as a doctor…his doctor, that right now is a good time. Tyson is gaining strength and life is no longer measured in months and weeks. Respect that…enjoy it. And know if something happens I’m on the other side of it…working tirelessly to figure it out. Relax…breathe.”
Her words, calm and soothing, had Alex smiling. “You’re so right…and here I’ve wasted your time.”
“No, dear, you haven’t. I needed to speak with you regarding another matter entirely.”
The sharpness returned as her hand returned to her lap. “I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it prior. I think it would be a fine solution for all involved.”
“What? I’m lost.”
“You’re currently working nights across the street, is that correct?”
“Um…yes.”
“That isn’t optimal for Tyson, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I would but—”
“I’d like you to work in my clinic with me. Monday through Thursday from nine to noon you’d be doing pulmonary function testing, and the afternoons would be mostly assisting me with diagnostic bronchoscopy. Fridays you would work recovery which would allow you to keep up your ventilator and critical care skills. Do you think that’d be something you’d be interested in?”
Buzzing with enthusiasm, her head felt as though it were floating above her. Alex was elated at the idea of such an opportunity. “Oh my god, yes. I just…how do I apply?”
“You don’t. I’ve already spoken with your director. She hates the idea of losing you but she’s not about to tell me no.”
“Oh…so…this could really happen?”
“It will happen if you so choose. Starting the first of next month.”
“I do. Oh my god I do choose.”
“Fantastic. If you have any free time this Saturday, you and Tyson can come by the clinic and look over the pulmonary function lab set up. I’ll be there all afternoon.”
“Yes! Of course. Dr. Jones, thank you so much. This means so much to me. Ty’s going to be thrilled.”
“I’m sure.”