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“We had some breakfast at the hotel before coming over,” my mom says. “Ours didn’t look quite as good as yours,” she jokes with a wink.
“Yeah, not much can beat this,” I joke back, taking another small bite.
So far, my stomach seems to be handling it well and seems to be rejoicing at the sugar hitting my system.
“How do you feel this morning?” my mom asks, and I can see the concern on her face that she’s been trying to hide since she walked in.
r /> “More sore,” I admit. “But I mean … they cut me open, I’m supposed to be sore. It’s not bad,” I hasten to add when she looks even more worried. “But I wanted to be honest. I feel tired too, but not exhausted. I just want to go home.”
She nods. “That’s understandable. You’ve been through a lot. I talked to the nurse before we came in and she said the earliest you’d be home is tomorrow afternoon. They want to be able to monitor you closely right now to make sure there’s no chance your body is rejecting the kidney.”
At her words, I get a visual in my mind of cells in my body wearing punching gloves and attacking my new kidney. I force my fear away, knowing I can’t dwell on it.
We grow quiet and I finish my breakfast, lying back and waiting to see if any nausea hits, but it seems like I’m in the clear.
I pick up my book and begin to read to pass the time until the doctor comes. Outside, the sun begins to shine brighter.
Someone comes and takes my breakfast tray away. Two nurses come in, going over everything for shift change. My dad flips through a car magazine, Harlow scrolls on her phone, and my mom taps her foot nervously as her eyes dart around the room.
It isn’t long after that and the doctor comes in.
“Willa,” Dr. Marks beams, “you look good. How do you feel?”
“Better than I thought I would,” I admit.
“No pain?”
“Not right now.”
“Good. Well, let’s get this catheter out of you and see if we can get you up and walking.”
He clears my family out of the room and my new nurse comes in, closing the curtain across the windows overlooking the nurses’ station and the door.
I close my eyes while they remove the catheter, whimpering slightly from the pressure of release.
Finally, it’s out and I feel like I can breathe.
“You okay?” Dr. Marks asks.
“Y-Yeah.” My voice is slightly shaky.
“I know it’s not the best feeling,” he says in a sympathetic tone. “I’ll be back to check on you later. I’m going to leave you with Ashley here” —he glances at the brunette nurse— “and she’ll get you up and moving.”
He gives me one last smile before leaving.
“Let’s try getting out of the bed, sweetie,” she says coaxingly.
It doesn’t sound like it should be something hard. I mean, it’s not like they were operating on my feet or legs.
Unfortunately, that’s not the case.
Ashley takes my hands, helping me swing my legs out over the bed. I scoot my butt until my feet touch the floor.
“Apply as much pressure to my hands as you need to,” she says soothingly. “I’m here to help.”
I press down on my feet and move to stand, but as I do my body starts to collapse under me and I lean heavily into the nurse.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she coaxes when I whimper, nearly crying because I thought this would be easy. “Your body is weakened, and you’ve been through a lot. Take it easy.”
