Harlow’s eyes connect with mine and she gives a small shake of her head as if to say, “She’s crazy.”
Minutes that feel like hours pass and my nurse comes in, asking the same standard questions they always do.
“How are you feeling?”
“How much are you feeling?”
“What’s your activity level?”
“Are you eating? How’s your diet?”
Over and over they go, and I shoot out my answers sounding like a robot as she enters each answer into her handy dandy iPad. She finishes up with me, saying the doctor will be in soon.
I let out a breath, relieved this visit is almost over.
Before my transplant, I didn’t have to come often which was nice, but now, the checks are frequent and while I understand the need for that, and am even thankful for it, that doesn’t mean it’s fun being here.
There’s a knock on the door and Dr. Marks enters, spinning his pen between his fingers, which he quickly tucks behind his ear. He’s dressed in a pair of tan slacks and a button-down shirt paired with bright red Converse.
“New shoes?” I joke, and he grins, pulling out the rolling stool.
“I decided I needed more than yellow.” He shrugs and pushes his black-framed glasses further up his nose.
“How are you feeling?” he asks me, and I sigh loudly. He chuckles. “I’m sure you’re sick of that question.”
“I’m feeling great,” I tell him. nbsp;Which is true. “I have way more energy, I don’t feel tired like I did or achy. I feel … alive. I’m sure that sounds weird, because of course I’m alive, I was alive then and I’m alive now, but … I don’t know, I finally feel like for the first time ever I’m living and I believe there’s a huge difference between being alive and living.”
Dr. Marks stares at me for a moment, a slow smile forming on his face. “Willa, you are far wiser than your eighteen years and I don’t know whether to be proud or afraid.” He chuckles warmly. “You’ve been through more at your age than most people deal with in a lifetime. That’s changed you—for some people they take that and change for the worse, being angry at the world for the cards they’ve been dealt, but not you. No, not you.” He shakes his head. “You’re quite remarkable.”
“Thank you, I think,” I laugh, and he does too.
“Hop up on the table and I’ll take a look so you can be on your way.”
I sigh and do as he says, unbuttoning my shorts so he can peek at my incision and feel around.
“Everything looks great. I’m happy with everything and your last blood work was excellent. We’ll have you stop at the lab before you go to do a draw today and when I get the results I’ll call you. If everything looks great I’ll want you back in another month, if everything is still holding steady then we’ll move it to every other month. Sound good?”
I nod, more than happy to agree to that.
“Good, good,” he chants and holds out his hands to help my short ass down from the exam table. “Let me go write up your orders and I’ll be right back with that—but first, any questions for me?” He looks from me, to my mom, and even my sister.
“She’s all right then? The kidney is doing great?”
He nods. “Everything seems to be as we like to see it. The kidney has taken to her body amazingly well.” He swivels his gaze to me. “But do not get any ideas and stop taking your anti-rejection medicine. If you stop, it will fail. Your body will attack and kill the organ.”
“Trust me, that won’t be happening.”
He nods and smiles. “I know, but I have to remind everybody. Some people assume it won’t happen to them.”
I shrug. “Doc, if it wasn’t going to happen to me my kidneys wouldn’t have failed in the first place.”
He laughs outright. “That’s true. I’ll be right back.”
We’re all silent as we wait. I don’t know what it is but there’s something about this place that always seems to rob us of our voice. Like if we speak the whole place might come crashing down around us.
Dr. Marks returns and hands me the slip of printed paper.
“I’m sure you know where the lab is.” He winks.