goldinwords.com

Thump-Thump! Thump-Thump! That loud noise was the first thing I remember, repeating itself over and over in my head. Gradually, I finally managed to open my bleary eyes a fraction at last.

It took a while for the blurry image in front of me to resolve itself into Mama Efua and Dad at the foot of my bed. All around was white: The Hospital. My mother had a look of concern she was trying bravely to keep under control but I heard her gasp with relief when I finally opened my eyes fully.

“Water,” I gasped. My throat was dry and felt scratchy.

She released my dad’s hand which she’d been clutching and came over to my side to pour me a glass of water from the pitcher on the locker beside my bed.

“Here you go Nana,” she said holding it up to my lips. Dad was smiling now. He knew his wife would do her own going-over to assess my condition for herself. Sometimes being married to a doctor was not easy but over the twenty-something odd years of marriage, they’d come to an agreement: when it came to health matters, he’d let her have her way – his turn would come whenever they needed a new room built!

“You should have seen your mother when they wheeled you out of surgery 2 days ago!” Dad started, shaking his head with mock longsuffering. “She was doing that her hummingbird thing again – hovering around checking your charts and cross-checking your medications and what not! Were it not that she had shares in this hospital I’m sure the Floor matron would have kicked her out pronto!”

I saw Mama Efua give him a look that would have withered watermelons! She opened her mouth to give him a scathing reply, I’m sure, but then seemed to change her mind. But I think I heard her mutter something beneath her breath that sounded like “As if I was the one checking with the staff every 10 minutes whether the surgery was over!” I don’t think he heard her…or he chose not to hear – wise man.

Then it all suddenly came crashing back! The rain, the slippery road, the girl who slipped and fell right into the middle of the road, stepping on the brakes, the car somersaulting –

“Jason! How is Jason?!” I exclaimed. The last I remembered was seeing him in the car one moment and then he just wasn’t there anymore as the car came to a rest after somersaulting end over end…and then blackness. “Where is he?” I asked again.

I dreaded the words that would come out of her mouth when I saw the pained look she shared with my dad before she turned to me again.

“Nana,” I closed my eyes tight, “I’m sorry but he didn’t make it”. My world imploded!

“You were both severely injured and the ambulance only got there in time because Jason was lucid enough to dial 911 when he was thrown out of the car.  He saved your life. Unfortunately he was in too bad a shape and …” She couldn’t go on anymore and was silently crying as Dad held her in his wide hug. I felt too stunned to say anything; so stunned. I remember feeling so cold as everything and everyone seemed to withdraw from my consciousness. Jason…the Only J. Gone…

It’s when everything seemed to go quiet that I realised that the strange thumping noise had increased in cadence: Thump-Thump! Thump-Thump! Thump-Thump! What was it?!  I then noticed a dull pain in my chest for the first time. I guess with the way I was feeling all over, isolating this particular uneasiness would have been pretty difficult – at least, initially. Except that the odd ‘Thump-Thump!’ was coming from there.

“What is this?” I asked shakily as my hands hesitatingly went to my chest. Mama E. stepped away from Dad and I could visibly see her steeling herself.

“You were brought in with a 6-inch piece of steel in your chest. It had punctured your heart’s ventricles and you needed a replacement or else you’d be dead in 5-10 minutes after our machines lost the ability to keep up with the blood loss and trauma in general…” She half-turned to Dad who had moved over to lean against the window-sill, his arms crossed. He gave a half-nod before she turned back to me.

“When they heard about the accident Jason’s parents rushed over here. They were devastated but still asked about your condition. When they heard that you were still alive but still in danger, they…they shocked us all: they decided to donate his heart to you!”

For the second time in 30 minutes since I’d regained consciousness, my world had upended itself! The thumping now came even faster. Thump-Thump! Thump-Thump! Thump-Thump! Thump-Thump! I had finally managed to clumsily open the hospital gown with my shaky fingers and found  myself staring at the dressing on my chest. Jason’s heart beat faster and faster. I didn’t even realise when Mama E. climbed into bed with me to hold me in her arms as she softly wept. I was barely aware of the silent tears running down my face too. Dad had turned away and was looking out the window. But I knew the set of his shoulders; he’d had that stance for days after Grandma had passed away.

The rain’s staccato died down to a random pattering of raindrops against the window.

————————————————————————————————————————

It was 3 weeks later, at Jason’s gravesite…’gravesite’ – such a cold word to be associated with one so young. Unfairly, it was a beautiful day. The sky was pale blue with dainty scallops of cloud here and there in a brilliantly sunny day. Some children present were running around giggling, children of family friends I think, who still hadn’t gotten old enough to ignore the weather and be gloomy enough, at least on the outside, to focus on what was at hand. They’d just started this new format in funerals in Ghana where we would have the burial service at the gravesite, surrounded by only a few friends and loved ones. The fully traditional part would come later.

Jason lay there in that white box, smart as ever in a two-piece white suit. I had a sudden recollection of when we tag-teamed as Two-Face during our Junior High Costume-themed Dinner. We both dyed our hair half-black and half-white and, since he was fairer, he wore a black two-piece suit and I wore a white two-piece suit. His date then – can’t seem to remember her name now – was in a white dinner dress while mine was in a black one. We could feel the envy practically radiating off our classmates who came as fairies and bunnies and what not…in Africa! He always had this way of convincing me to spearhead our crazy schemes. That was because by the age of 12 everyone was unto him and success usually only lay in my less naughty face.

It was when the preacher paused during the sermon about…oh hell, I don’t remember whatit was about! All I know is that it was during a pause for the choir present to sing one more mournful song that it started all over again: Thump-Thump! Thump-Thump! Thump-Thump! Thump-Thump!

Jason’s heart! It had never beaten so quickly and strongly before. It felt like I’d been doing a steady 30kmph for close to an hour. I’d idly read up on some articles on transplants so the first thing that popped up into my mind was “Is the heart rejecting me?!” I looked frantically towards the open casket, maybe expecting to see Jason suddenly come back to life, rising up with hands stretched out towards my chest!… Okay, maybe I was overreacting there. But I bet you’ve never been as panicked as I was that day. It still didn’t stop me from craning my neck to look once more into the open casket. Jason hadn’t moved. In fact, I could have sworn I saw a hint of a smile on his face just then – but I guess it was just my nerves or something.

It then occurred to me to look around the gravesite: maybe something there had set off this panic mode subconsciously. As I turned away towards the back of the crowd, the heart beat even faster and louder in my ears. Someone must be able to hear this too, I remember thinking. But no one seemed to hear anything out of the ordinary. Mama Efua, sitting next to me, just gave me a quizzical look when she noticed my out of place behaviour, after which she smiled slightly and squeezed my hand before turning to the reverend as he began to read from a passage. That’s when I saw some classmates of mine and Jason’s, seated at the back. Then as suddenly as it began, my new heart stopped acting up. Weird? Definitely.

- Tele…

Related posts:

Related posts:

1. When You’re Loving a Prayer Papa! This piece was actually inspired by an incident a friend...
2. Who’s That Girl?! Don’t you sometimes wish the roles had been clearly defined??...
3. The Call Just because every story has a flipside… ‘Did you see...
4. The Best Man I Can Be! Guys don’t get to be off the hook either. Just...
5. Just Love Me… It’s been a singularly tough week for me so as...