#Darklovestoryprompt

Valentine’s Day

Nina

I spent last Valentines day in hospital and most people had given up hope that I would ever leave it under my own power. I was so bad that I couldn’t even handle having a romance story read to me, my heart was so frail it couldn’t stand the strain of excitement of the mere thought of a woman finding a man.

Then at 10:12am I was told they had found a heart for me. I remember I was looking at the clock, I had been wondering how long I had left, wondering if I would see my last second tick.

My mom and Dad were ecstatic but I didn’t let myself hope, I couldn’t. What if for some reason I didn’t get it, or worse, I died before they could get it in me. These were my recurring nightmares. No, hope is a very cruel emotion and one I don’t allow.

But, as you can clearly see, it worked, I got the heart and my body didn’t reject it. Of course I’m on anti-rejection drugs for the rest of my life but that is a small price to pay. I have a life and I can actually do things with it. Real things like running, swimming or just going on a roller-coaster. And I can read my own damn romance stories!

When people find out I had a heart transplant one of the things they ask me is if it really feels like mine. I have news for you folks, you don’t actually feel your heart most of the time. Ok, so sometimes it thumps in your chest when you have been running or working hard, and pain if you have heart attack, but when you are just having lunch or sitting chatting with someone, you don’t feel it. So when you swap out one for another, the organ itself doesn’t feel any different. It’s not like it is a different temperature or anything. The difference is in what you can do with the rest of your body, which in my case is pretty much everything.

When those same people hear that the surgery was on Valentines day, they go all gushy and say it’s so romantic, but it’s really not.

I don’t know much about the donor. They don’t encourage either side of the equation to seek out those on the other. They say it will only lead to heartbreak, excuse the pun.

What I do know is my heart came from a young man who died in a traffic accident, and he was from out of state. I have learned not to tell those people who think it’s romantic that last bit. I’m sorry but I see nothing romantic about knowing I only live because someone else had to die, and the notion of him being my soulmate is even worse. How can I hope to find the love of my life if he is already dead?

Have you heard the stories of a person taking on traits of the donor after a transplant? Well I’m here to tell you, believe them.

I never had any interest in sports before, I couldn’t participate in any and quite frankly I thought they were a waste of time. But now that has changed.

Not only have I taken up running, but I like to sit down and watch a game of football, and baseball too. I even have favourite teams. The Seahawks in football and the Redsocks for baseball. Since they are from different states, I don’t think it really gives me any clue as to the state my donor is from, but I do wonder if these were his teams. I also have a taste for beer. Ok, so I didn’t really get to drink much before. I had had the heart condition since I was quite young and of course I didn’t drink back then. It didn’t change once I hit 21 because I was in rough shape and on all sorts of medication, so drinking wasn’t really something I got a chance to do. Now At 25 I am finally able to make my own decisions, within reason. Technically I’m still not supposed to drink, but every now and again I have a beer. I did try wine once but it was nasty, I’ll never make that mistake again.

My mother is a skeptic, she says that it’s only natural that I take an interest in sports now that I have the new heart and am able to do normal everyday things. And she says the fact that the teams I’ve picked to follow closely are not from our state, let alone the same one proves that it’s all me. She says men are very loyal to their own state, where they went to school and such like. My dad doesn’t give a toss one way or the other, he’s just pleased to have someone to sit down in front of the TV with. He says that now I’m the best child a father could hope for. The pretty daughter that has always seen him as her hero, and now the son he never knew he was missing. Someone to have a sneaky beer with while we watch the game.

I’m moving out soon, leaving home. It’s something I never thought I would get to do, unless of course you count the months spent in the hospital. Mom doesn’t want me to go, says I’m not ready, but I am so ready!

I’m finally going to get to actually live my life. One year to the day from my life saving surgery, all the post op tests and appointments are done, the wounds are healed. My heart is strong, and the medication has been tailored to my body’s needs. It’s time for me to take control over my destiny. And my goal? Next year on Valentines day I will not be just reading a romance story, I will be living one.

~#~