Life Chances upload

‘Life Chances’ by Al James A short story donated to support the work of Kidney Research UK

LIFE CHANCES They weren’t ready when Emily arrived. Something about bloods delaying things. She wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but the result was a forty five minute wait. When they eventually called her into the dialysis ward she felt tired and certainly not wanting to be attached to a machine for four hours.

The big clock on the ward said quarter to six. With probably half an hour to get fixed up, it would be at least half past ten before she could go home. But if she wanted to stay working there was no choice. So every Monday, Wednesday and Friday she had to leave school by half past four and drive to the hospital. It meant she couldn’t help out as much as she would have liked in after school activities. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, when otherwise she could, she was often too tired.

Just about the only positive thing about dialysis, apart from keeping her alive of course, was that it gave her a perfect excuse to leave the Monday meetings if the head over-ran. He often did. Teaching the children in her Year 3 class was fun. She loved helping them to learn new things. They had so much enthusiasm and energy. She couldn’t really say the same about staff meetings.

But tonight it was Friday. The weekend stretched ahead. Just the dialysis session to get through. As she drove to the hospital she thought about the plans her friends had for her.

They were always plotting and trying to get her to meet lads. Not that she thought anyone would be interested in her while she had to keep going into hospital for dialysis. But there was no harm in dreaming.

She parked her car and made her way onto the ward. As she sat in her chair and waited for Martha to plumb her into the machine, she could see the sunset out of the window; an orangey yellow ball dropping over the horizon and leaving streaks behind in the darkening sky. It reminded her of the cylinder after dialysis; mostly clear but streak stained with her blood. Martha held it out to show her after every session.

“Nice and clear again, Emily.”

She could predict the phrase. It felt a bit like when she was three how her mum pointed to her poo in the bowl and told her how well she’d done. Or like how she was now with the eight year olds in her class when they did a good piece of work.

“That’s wonderful Jason, you can have two stars for that!”

The beaming face looking up at her made it worth it. But she was twenty eight.

2

She didn’t complain. Martha was a good nurse. If nursing had been her career it was how she might like to be. But with her kidneys it was just as well she’d chosen teaching. All around her now the dissonant falling octaves of the dialysis machines drowned out most other sounds. It was always the same at the start of the sessions when the machines were being primed for service after treating the afternoon shift. Only later, when everyone was settled and the blood was coursing through the tubes clearing out the toxins did it get quiet.

“Ready now?”

Martha was standing beside her, smiling.

“Dracula time?” she said, making it sound like a question, but there was no doubt. It had to happen if she wanted to stay alive.

It was quite dark outside now. The redness in the sky had gone and only the functional street lamps round the hospital relieved the darkness. She felt the familiar sharp pain as Emily found the arterial entry in her arm and pushed it through.

“That feel OK?” Did she want the truth – painful, uncomfortable – or the medically correct response?

“That’s fine thanks.” It felt like the right place, it wasn’t fine.

The vein came next. Same process, comparable feelings, same question.

“Fine. Plumb me in now.”

She liked saying that. It made Martha laugh and it turned everything into a mechanical process. Like it sort of wasn’t her. Keeping the real Emily separate.

Whirring and clonking sounds beside her told her the dialysis was starting. Her pulse seemed to race and the familiar unpleasant feeling was in her chest again. Always she waited anxiously at this point for the machine to alarm, it’s doom laden digital octave drop telling her something was wrong, but this time it didn’t so she sat back in the chair trying to let herself relax. It was always easier after the first few minutes. Beside her, in her bag, was a pile of exercise books which needed marking, so with her free, writing arm she stretched down to lift it, at the same time trying not to affect the left arm. Any false move could start the dreaded octaves. * “Can I borrow your car tonight?”

Jamie looked at his mum hopefully. She didn’t often say yes, but maybe tonight would be different.

“Don’t you want to spend some time in with me and your dad?”

He grinned, watching her trying to keep a straight face. She knew the answer really.

“Well maybe just this once,” she said.

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Before she could say any more he threw his arms around her and picked her up.

“Jamie, put me down!”

He spun her round in his excitement.

“I’ll change my mind if you don’t put me down.”

“Mum, your cool,” he said, putting her upright immediately.

“Where are you going?” she said, once she’d recovered, pulling her sweater straight where he’d rucked it up.

“Town. It’s Matt’s birthday. Few of us getting together. I said I’d try and get the car, your car that is. They all live that way, it’s easier if I pick them up.” he added grinning, “You’re not drinking are you?”

“I’m not stupid, mum, don’t want to lose my licence already. I said I’d be the driver tonight.”

“Well just make sure you don’t.”

He was sure he wouldn’t. It was a rule they had between them. No pressure on whoever got the car. More sensible than most lads he knew. But he didn’t want to mess up his university place. All he had to do was get two As and a B to stand any chance of getting to medical school. He wasn’t going to spoil his freedom by losing his licence.

He got in the driving seat and started the engine. His mum’s Toyota roared into life. He let the clutch out and eased off the drive into the flow of traffic. It was almost dark, but there was a faint glow still on the horizon as he drove. He felt good. The Easter holidays were ahead, just two weeks away and he could take life a bit easier. There would be revision, but he was confident he’d done enough work in the past year and a half to be sure he could get the grades he needed. Maths and chemistry would be no problem. Biology would take a bit more work, but he could do it. He knew he could.

“Don’t be over confident, son,” his dad said, but that was like him, always looking on the pessimistic side of things. It wasn’t his way at all. The teachers said he would get the grades.

There were plenty of reasons to be confident.

He reached the bypass and put his foot down on the pedal. His mum’s car had good acceleration. He watched the speedometer rise to sixty, sixty five. He wondered if Lily would be there tonight. He imagined her in the short black dress she’d worn at the disco last weekend when he’d first got chatting to her. He’d got the impression she liked him. He grinned to himself as he thought of her again. Maybe he could arrange to give her a lift home too, drop her off last. You never know what might happen. He could feel the excitement rising in him. *

‘My techer.’

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Emily smiled to herself at the heading for Tyler Sampson’s piece of writing. It wasn’t what she’d asked for, but she was used to that with Tyler; always the unexpected! Before she could began reading what Tyler had written the dialysis machine next to her began alarming. For a moment she wondered if it was hers, but it wasn’t. One of the other nurses appeared at the next bay.

“Ted!” There was no response, but Ted was deaf.

“Ted!” The louder voice together with a wave in front of his face produced a reaction.

“Did you move your arm?”

“No, no harm.”

“Your arm. You have to keep it still.”

“I was just getting my paper. It fell on the floor.”

Emily watched the exasperated tutting as the nurse, a friendly Filipino incongruously called Nellie, stopped the alarming sound, made some adjustment to Ted’s arm and then switched the machine back on.

“Now be a good boy Ted!” she said, almost shouting at him.

“Yes matron.”

Nellie looked across at her and raised her eyes to the ceiling as she moved away. Emily grinned and turned her attention back to Tyler’s book.

‘My techer as to have dilys, corse her kindeys dont work. She need a traspant but thers a long wating list. Miss Taylor is a very nice techer and I hope she get one soon.’

She looked at the words in front of her and read them again. Tears were forming at the back of her eyes. All the time she’d been having dialysis she’d managed to keep her feelings under control. Now there were tears running down her cheeks. Quickly she found a tissue in her bag and wiped them away, but more of them escaped. From nowhere Martha was by her side.

“Emily, are you alright?”

“Fine. I’m fine.”

“What is it?”

“Nothing. I’m fine, really I am.”

“Not what it looks like.”

“Just something in this book. Nothing really.”

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It was impossible to prevent Martha from seeing Tyler’s book. She had to wait as she read it, sniffing and wiping her face again as she did.

“They know then.”

“I told them about me when we had a fundraising day for Kidney Research.”

“That child must be very fond of you.”

“She’s just a nice girl. They’re all lovely children.”

“Do you want a drink?”

She nodded, sniffing again.

“I’ll get you one.” *

Jamie felt good. He was quite sure Lily fancied him. All she had to do was be there tonight.

“Be there tonight,” he muttered to himself.

He reached forward and switched on his mum’s radio, shifted the station away from some awful classical stuff she was listening to and found something with a beat. He pressed harder on the accelerator and the Toyota responded.

“Not quite my kind of car, but it’s OK,” he thought to himself. “When I’m a consultant I’ll have something much grander.”

He was nearly at Tom’s house, the first pick up. Ahead of him was a slower car. Old Ford Fiesta or something he guessed. The road ahead looked clear, he could definitely get round.

He pulled out and accelerated faster still. ‘Accelerate out of danger’ his dad always said.

He’d heard him say it when his mum complained about his driving.

Suddenly out of nowhere there were lights ahead of him. Instinctively he swerved further out, away from what he could now see was an approaching vehicle and right across to the other side of the road, avoiding a collision. But he still had to control the car. It seemed to be swerving wildly and he was on the wrong side of the road. Horns were blaring from everywhere around him as he tried to straighten the car. Now there was a second car directly ahead of him so he pulled across again, but over steering, he shot right across the carriageway and into the darkness at the side of the road. There was an instantaneous crash and an object seemed to fire itself through the windscreen into his head. Everything became bright suddenly and then there was nothing. *

6

Martha arrived with the tea.

“Sorry about that.”

“No need.” She put the tea on the table beside her and for a moment let a hand rest on her arm. “How’s Nelson?”

She understood the message and smiled. Move on now.

“Caught a bird the other day. I shouted at him.”

“It’s in their nature though, even one eyed cats.”

That was how he got his name. One eye was already damaged when she got him as a stray; fight of some kind probably, although most of the time now all he did was eat and sleep, on her lap whenever she let him.

“Keeps me company.”

“What will you do with him? If you get the call that is.”

She’d been on the transplant register for almost three years. All the publicity said that was the average waiting time. But she knew they had to get the right match and the waiting list was getting longer. You never knew till they rang you in the middle of the night.

“My mum said to phone her. She’s got a key. She’ll sort him.”

Suddenly she had to move her foot, which was cramping. It happened. She was used to it.

Part of the condition.

“Cramp?”

“It’ll go if I stretch it back and forwards.”

She was aware of Martha watching her as she moved the foot about, trying at the same time not to disturb the lines in her arm.

“Want me to massage it for you?”

The shook her head. The pain was receding. She wiggled her toes a couple of times to check.

“It’s not so much the cat I’m worried about. My class are coming on really well. I hate to think of one of the old dragons taking them over when I’m being fixed up with my new kidney.”

“I know,” Martha said.

She didn’t think she did know really, how could she, but it was meant to show sympathy.

She smiled.

Suddenly there was a commotion down the other end of the ward. Martha stood quickly and moved at some speed to where she could see other nurses gathering. One of the old timers in trouble she guessed. Fainted perhaps. She watched. Quite soon one of the ward consultants arrived. Someone must have called him. It looked serious; she knew occasionally patients died on the ward, but there was nothing she could do about it so she picked out the next book from her bag and began looking through it.

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* “I hope he’ll be alright.”

“Who?” “Jamie” “Shouldn’t have lent him your car, Annie, if it was just going to worry you.”

“I always worry when he’s out.”

“He’s eighteen now. In a few months time he’ll be studying to become doctor.”

“Do you think he’ll make it?”

“Don’t see why not. He’s bright enough. Long as he’s not over confident.”

The doorbell rang. Silly chimes that always startled her.

“Who’s that?” she said, looking anxious.

“I’ll go and find out.”

It was unusual. Something about it felt ominous.

Jack was coming back through the hallway with someone else. She could hear the footsteps, and then he came through the door, followed by a police officer holding a cap in his hand.

“Sit down,” he said, and the officer sat uncomfortably on the chair where Jamie sat on the few occasions now when they could encourage him to sit in with them.

“Mr and Mrs Andrews?”

“Yes.” Something was rising inside her, making its way upwards.

“Your son, James Andrews . . .”

“Jamie, yes” She said.

“What’s he done?”

“I’m afraid there’s been an accident.”

“Accident?”

“On the bypass. Just this side of town.”

“Jamie?”

Whatever was rising upwards inside her was in her mouth now.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Is he . . . . injured?”

“I’m afraid he’s . . . passed away Mrs Andrews. They took him to the infirmary but there was nothing they could do for him.”

She was going to be sick. She put her hand over her mouth, gagging. Then she was shouting out making inarticulate noises, out of control.

“I’m sorry,” the police officer said.

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They were talking, but she couldn’t make any sense of anything as the awful words swam around her head. ‘Passed away, passed away. He couldn’t have done, not my Jamie. No.’ The police officer was going and then Jack was back in the living room.

“We have to go to the hospital,” he said, taking her hand. * Emily looked at the clock; nearly half past ten. All the books were marked and she’d spent the rest of the time reading and looking on facebook.

‘I’m all plumbed in and wired up for action’ she’d posted earlier.

‘With Count Dracula again haha’, came back.

‘They use pipes in plumbing, not wires ha! lol’ There was always someone pedantic.

‘Be glad when your off that machine. No sign of transplant donor?’

‘Not yet. Living in hope, haha!’ she replied.

‘Good time tomorrow!! Lol xx She thought again about the guy who’d just finished with his girlfriend.

“You’d like him, I know you would,” Lisa said.

“And he’d like you. You’d be just right for him.”

“He won’t want someone on dialysis. Get real girls.”

“That’s stupid. It’s got nothing to do with it.”

She didn’t make too much of a fuss. It would be fun to meet someone new. But her friends really didn’t have much idea of the realities of her life. It would take someone quite special to take a risk on her.

Passing the time was what she was doing now. She did her best to use the time productively, but it wasn’t always easy. Especially on a Friday night.

Finally, the moment she always looked forward to arrived. It was time to come off the machine. As long as it didn’t take too long to stop the bleeding she’d be out of the ward by eleven o’clock. Then no more transplant till Monday. The weekend was hers. * Annie just sat there staring through the windscreen as Jack drove them to the hospital. She felt numb and cold, like ice was in every part of her. Somewhere she knew he was driving too fast but she didn’t care. Nothing mattered anymore.

When they got there someone was waiting for them in the reception area.

9

“Mr and Mrs Andrews?”

Jack nodded.

“Come with me please.”

They were sat in a waiting room. Almost immediately a police officer and someone who introduced himself as Dr Ali were in the room with them. She could hardly take in what was happening. Then they were led through into a room.

Jamie was lying there. Looking impossibly peaceful, although there was some sort of gash across his head. She put her hand in his. It was cold, colder even than her own cold hand.

She didn’t want to let go, couldn’t leave him. Then Jack was putting his arm round her and she got the impression he was sobbing quietly, something she never expected to happen.

But she couldn’t cry herself, the tears wouldn’t come, although she knew somewhere inside a flood was waiting for release.

They were back in another room. Asked to wait. Someone else wanted to talk to them.

“What else is there?” Jack said to her, but she had no idea, couldn’t make sense of anything at all.

A younger woman came in, sat down in the chair opposite from where they were.

“It’s hard to raise this with you now,” she was saying.

What was hard? Why was she saying it then?

“Your son, Jamie . . .” there was a sound in the woman’s throat like she wasn’t quite sure what she was saying. She was wearing green socks. They looked ridiculous. The woman began again, “Your son Jamie . . .” she said.

Your son Jamie; what was she saying? Why was she saying it twice?

“Jamie signed the organ donor register. In the event of his death he wanted his organs to be used for transplants.”

“Yes, I remember he did tell us that.” How could Jack say that so matter of fact?

“No,” she said quickly, “no!”

They both looked at her.

“You can’t cut him up! He’s only just . . . .”

But she couldn’t say it. The words wouldn’t come. The woman just looked at her as if she didn’t understand.

“Annie, he wanted to be a doctor. Wanted to save lives.”

“Well he didn’t save his own, did he!”

Inside her, the dam felt like it suddenly burst. Tears came flooding up into her eyes, down her nose, and outside herself now she could hear someone wailing and sobbing that both was her and wasn’t her at the same time. It seemed to go on and on. Jack was beside her telling her to calm herself, but how could she when . . .

10

“He’s dead, Jamie’s dead!” she shouted out, screamed it out. Then just as suddenly all the energy seemed to go from her body and she sat still again, covered in snot and tears with Jack wiping her face with his already wet handkerchief.

“I’m sorry,” the woman was saying, “I’m really sorry. I do have to ask you.”

“Yes,” Jack was saying, “Yes, it’s OK. Save someone else’s life.”

She didn’t know what to do, didn’t have any energy for resistance. She nodded her head.

“Yes,” she muttered, almost inaudibly.

For a moment it was silent in the room. Only the radiator creaked.

“Thankyou,” the woman said, “Many people will be grateful to you and your son.”

Then she was gone. Jack took her hand in his and held it, but at that moment it felt like all life was slipping away and she knew she could never ever feel the same again. * It was good to be home at last. Emily switched on the television, but there was nothing that interested her. Nelson was miaowing so she stood up again, turned the television off and went into the kitchen to feed him. Then she locked up, shut him in the kitchen and got herself ready for bed. She checked the two needling sites, but there was no blood. They seemed to have settled well, so she got into bed and quite quickly fell into a deep sleep.

At some point in the night she felt as if she was in a strange dream and somewhere in her dream a tune was playing. It didn’t stop. It was the same tune she had on her mobile phone.

She surfaced from the dream and still the tune went on and when she looked round her phone was alive. Someone was ringing her in the night. Was there a problem? School or her mum and dad? She picked up the phone, wide awake now and feeling shaky.

“Yes?” “Is that Emily Taylor?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice suddenly cracking.

“Hello Emily. Sorry to wake you in the middle of the night. Its Sam Jones here, transplant coordinator from Queens Medical Centre. We think we have a kidney for you.”

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