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I chanted mine too, adding in for good measure, “I’m listed as his next of kin. I’m his only family here.” My grandparents had severed all ties with my father and then moved back to Puerto Rico shortly after I was born. My dad never spoke about them, and I had no idea if they were even alive or dead. Things were hardly better with my mom’s parents, though they at least sent extremely impersonal cards for Christmas and birthdays.
I heard the woman tapping at her keyboard in the background.
“Ah yes, I have notes here from the transplant coordinator, who’s not here at this time. Yes, we have acquired a donor lung—a road traffic accident. Your father is here and is currently being prepared for surgery, which is probably why you couldn’t manage to reach him.”
“Oh my God. Thank you. Thank you so much… I…” I was too choked up to continue. Besides, I was also incapable of forming a linear train of thought, let alone stringing those thoughts into coherent sentences.
“You’re so welcome, ma’am, all the best.” I hung up the phone and then stared at it blankly for a few long moments before it started ringing in my hands. I picked it up still in shock.
“Hi.”
“Hi, oh my God, holy shit. Is this really happening? He has a new lung?”
I nodded mutely before remembering that Rocky couldn’t see me through the handset.
“Yeah, I just got the call. Someone died in a car crash, so…”
“So, one family’s heartbreak is your family’s salvation.”
“Basically.” It really was that simple. The fact that my dad was going to live was a direct result of someone else dying. I hated thinking about it in those terms, but it was the cold, hard truth.
“My heart goes out to that family, but they wanted this, so let’s focus on that, and on positive, healing vibes for your dad. Where are you now, at the hospital?”
“No, but I’m in a cab on my way there.”
“Okay. I’ll do the same—I’ll jump in a cab and meet you there.”
“No, you do—”
“Shut up. I’ll see you there soon. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I had a similar conversation with Kayla, who said she would need to get her neighbor to sit with her kids, but then would also meet me there—despite my insistence that she didn’t need to. Still, I was secretly glad that neither woman had listened to me. The truth was, I was terrified half out of my mind, and I was going to need as much moral support as I could get, while I waited for Dad to emerge from surgery.
I rushed out of the cab, and into the hospital like I was being chased by a pride of lions, and headed for the transplant wards. Once I got there, I hurriedly explained my situation again, and was shown to the pre-op room where Dad was.
The sight of him prepped and waiting for surgery broke the floodgates on the tears that had been threatening to flow since I’d received the call.
I ran to him and threw myself onto his chest sobbing uncontrollably.
“Don’t cry, m’ija, this is the best day. The best thing that could happen for either of us. Don’t cry, Angelita, please.” His chest rose and fell rapidly, and I knew without looking that he was shedding tears of his own.
How could I not cry? This was the day I’d been waiting so long for, but was starting to fear would never come, especially after my dad’s talk of giving up hope, and just allowing himself to slip quietly away.
Over the years I’d tried to remain upbeat and positive for his sake, and to encourage him to do the same, but there had been times when I’d let myself succumb to despondency and doubt. Times where I’d let the what ifs crowd out the positive vibes.
What if Dad never made it far enough up the transplant list to actually receive a donor organ? What if he let himself slip away just like he threatened? What if a donor lung never became available? What if he received a lung, but his body rejected it? While in the cold light of day I knew they were somewhat irrational fears that didn’t serve me, I was only human, and sometimes I just couldn’t move past them.
I straightened up, and reached out to wipe his cheeks with one hand, while swiping at my own with the other.
“They were happy tears, but now they’re gone. Only smiles from now on for you and me. We made it. Save those tears for your celebratory fiesta. Then we can both cry as much as we like, right Papá?”
He nodded, then paused, lost in thought.
“I love you, m’ija. Take good care of yourself, Angelita. I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Dad, more than anything or anyone, but I need you to smile, and stop acting like this is the beginning of the end. It’s not, it’s a beautiful new beginning, that starts in the next four to eight hours’ time.”
