Page 27 of The Broken Hearts Club

“I looked into all the state and federal assistance programs last year, because I wanted to get some tests done to find out why I felt rundown all the time. Turns out I make too much money to qualify. Isn’t that hilarious? My puny thrift store salary kept me just a hair above what they consider the poverty line, so they couldn’t help me. I even looked up programs in California to see if the situation would be different here, but nope. I’m just screwed.”

“There’s private insurance, too. Maybe you could buy a policy.”

“They always exclude pre-existing conditions, so that wouldn’t do me any good.”

“Please, Collie. Don’t run away from this.”

“You can’t stop me, not unless you plan to tie me to the bed. Normally, that would be a good time, but not in this case.”

I flailed around for something to say and came up with, “This isn’t a sleazy motel that charges by the hour. You’re already here, a lot of tests were already done, and running off in the middle of the night accomplishes nothing. If you stay until the morning, you can talk to the doctor and get a lot more information about your condition. You can talk to someone about financial aid, too. They might know about some sort of program that you’re unaware of.”

He paused and mulled that over. I was actually guessing that hospitals didn’t charge by the hour, but it sounded right. I breathed a sigh of relief when he muttered, “Alright,” and climbed back into bed. “I guess I’ll try to get some rest. But I still plan to leave after I hear what they have to say.”

I turned off the harsh light above his bed. We could still see each other in the soft glow from a pair of wall sconces, and I gently brushed his hair back from his face as I said, “Do you promise not to sneak out if I doze off?” Collie nodded and shut his eyes, and I moved my chair closer to him before taking a seat.

After a while, I assumed he’d fallen asleep. I rested my crossed arms on the edge of his bed and dropped my head onto them. I’d been running on worry and adrenaline for hours, and now my exhaustion was catching up to me.

A minute later, Collie began gently stroking my hair. He said, very softly, “I really, truly hate hospitals. I watched my dad die in one, and my mom, and Aunt Sue. I would have panicked if I’d woken up alone here, and I’m so grateful that you stayed with me, Miller. You don’t know what that means to me.”

When I sat up and looked at him, there were tears streaming down his face. He whispered, “I’m really scared.”

“Scoot over.”

He did as I asked. After I kicked off my shoes, I climbed onto the bed and gathered him in my arms. He rested his head on my chest and said, in that same little whisper, “I don’t want to die.”

“You won’t. The doctors are going to help you, and you’re going to be perfectly fine.”

I had to believe that. I absolutely had to.

7

Miller

In the morning, the doctor came to talk to Collie. He asked me to stay, and I held his hand while she took her time explaining his condition. It got a little technical, so at one point she sketched a heart on the back of her prescription pad to show him exactly what she was talking about.

When she finished telling him all about the defect and how it was affecting his heart functions, he asked, “Is this going to kill me?”

“It’s severe enough that it could, if it was left untreated.”

“How soon might that happen?”

“There’s no way of knowing,” she said. “It could be a week, a month, or twenty years. But without surgery, I can say for certain that it will shorten your life span. You heart is working much harder than it should, and it can’t sustain that much strain indefinitely.”

“So, I could have a heart attack?”

“Heart failure, heart damage, or a stroke are more likely.”

“I don’t suppose this is an easy laparoscopic surgery,” he said.

“Some types of defects can be repaired laparoscopically, but not this one, unfortunately. It’s going to require open-heart surgery.”

He squeezed my hand and muttered, “That’s as scary as finding out I have a heart defect.”

She said, very matter-of-factly, “While there’s always a risk with any surgery, it’s far less than the risk of leaving your condition untreated.”

“I need some time to think about all of this,” he said. “I also need to talk to someone about financial aid or whatever, because I don’t have insurance.”

“Of course. I’ll send someone to come and speak with you about your options.”