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“That’s not a thing,” she told him. “Your mom asked one of the cardiologists if that could happen after your transplant because she feared this exact thing. He said it wasn’t possible.”
“It’s not scientifically proven, just a theory. Others who have received organ donations have indicated a change in their behavior or what they ate.”
“Your behavior did change,” she pointed out.
“If you’re referring to how I feel about you, no, it didn’t. I’ve always felt this way but didn’t want to burden you with my issues. Once I knew I had a new heart and the old junky one was out of my life, I did what I wanted to do a long time ago. Telling you how I feel or felt was literally the most exhilarating and scariest time of my life. I was so afraid things were irrevocably broken between us because of how I acted.”
“They should’ve been,” she told him. “But I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can recall. I think the only way I could ever be out of your life is if I were to move away and not tell you where I went.”
“I’d definitely file a missing persons report.” He smiled, thankful for the moon’s brightness coming through their window.
“This feeling you have, what can we do about it?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure there’s anything we can do.”
“You could reach out to UNOS, find out if the donor’s family is receptive to communication or even a meeting. They’re the only ones who will know. Maybe this is part of the healing process. What about finding a support group? Someone might have experienced a similar situation and can guide you.”
“Thank you,” he said as he kissed her. “I don’t know how I got so lucky to have you in my life, Reid. But I am truly the luckiest man on the planet.”
“And the cheesiest.” She giggled when he tickled her side. She moved in closer and snuggled against him, placing her hand on his heart. “Whatever it is, as long as you’re healthy, we’ll figure it out.”
The next morning, they sat down to drink their coffee and watch some television before they ventured out for the day. Grayson flippedmindlessly through the channels until he saw the words “organ donations.” A multiple-episode documentary was on. He immediately hit record and started watching with rapt attention.
When Sydney called and asked Reid if she wanted to go shopping, Grayson told her to go and have fun. The documentary had captured his attention. He sat there for hours, listening to others tell their stories about their transplants, trying to absorb what he could. Only one recipient talked about experiencing unexplained emotions. Grayson rewound the segment and watched it repeatedly, writing down his own series of questions. The more he listened, the more he thought what he was experiencing was the same. Cellular memory was definitely a thing, and he had it. However, he had no idea what to do about it. He could make a request through UNOS to meet the family, but that could take up to a year, and that was only if the family was receptive.
Grayson couldn’t wait a year to hear no. His heart wouldn’t be able to take the rejection. Nor could he live any longer with the ache in his chest.
He needed answers now.
When he finished watching, he had a desire to know more. He grabbed his laptop and began reading everything he could on transplant patients, life after a transplant, and where he could find support groups. Either in person or virtual. It didn’t matter.
Information was scarce. He only found a couple of blogs that touched on the matter, but one he read was rather intriguing. The recipient had asked to meet the donor’s family. They declined. He’d become so obsessed with finding answers for why his heart felt the way it did that he scoured local obituaries during the time he was in the hospital. In the end, he came up short. He never uncovered the issue and still struggled to this day with unexplained emotions.
A year had passed since Grayson’s heart transplant. Per his therapist’s warnings, he’d avoided seeking out the things he’d missed during his time in a coma. Dr. Littleton had explained that, because of how the mind absorbs and processes information, it was normal for peopleto miss a day or two of the news but hear something in passing. But missing weeks or even months and then trying to catch up could cause more issues for the patient. Grayson had heeded the advice, except when it came to the college basketball championship. He had to know who’d made it to the Final Four and won the title. Thankfully, he was a fan of neither team.
Grayson typed keywords into the search bar of the internet browser. His pinky hovered over the enter key. He could look, or he could move his finger up two rows and delete everything.
He pressed enter and then spent the next five or six hours looking at everything he could from the days he was in the coma and in the intensive care unit to the days after his discharge. The only time he left his computer was to take his meds and eat, both after hearing reminders that sounded from his phone. Grayson dove into the news, enthralled by how much had happened in the time he was asleep.
It wasn’t even a refreshing nap.
The wave of emotions that came over him left him feeling down. He was shocked by what he’d missed, saddened by what he read. It shouldn’t have taken him a year to read the news, but he understood why his therapist had cautioned against doing it.
Grayson closed his laptop when Reid came home. He told her how he’d spent his day. “I think I need to take a walk,” he told her after they ate dinner. “I need some fresh air.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
He thought for a minute and then nodded. Being in her presence calmed him. Kept him grounded. Grayson waited while she changed into her sneakers, and then they made their way outside.
“Let’s walk to the Mall,” he told her. “I want to see where we’re getting married next year.”
Reid beamed. They held hands and traversed their neighborhood until they’d reached the National Mall. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom. The pink canopy of flowers created a beautiful aesthetic. It was easy to see why Reid wanted to be married there.
Grayson did as well.
She didn’t know this, but he had a countdown on his phone to the day she’d become his wife. Asking her to marry him was the best decision of his life, except for when he’d kissed her for the second, third, fourth, and how many other times.
“This is perfect and what I want for our day,” Reid said when they arrived at the Mall. “Look at the ground. The natural beauty of the way the blossoms fall. I can see myself walking down the aisle here.” She beamed up at him, her smile brighter than the North Star.
