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My argument is quiet. Meek. “I let you in.”
“Girl, I bulldozed my way into your life like an abandoned mall being destroyed for gentrification.” The proclamation is attached to a small shrug. “That’s just who I am. That’s what I was raised to be. Not a fighter because some people – exhibit my bestie – need being runover to realize the obvious which makes bulldozing best.” It’s impossible to ignore the seriousness in her expression. “I’m not saying his whiney, jealous of Daniel tantrums should be tolerated or easily forgiven with a pat on the head. I’m simply saying that everyone’s working through shit in their lives and when you love someone as hard as you and Tate love each other – which I am absolutely jealous of and will absolutely never admit that shit again – you gotta find forgiveness and work on growing together.”
Processing her point is unexpectedly interrupted by the familiar ringing that indicates it’s go time. Nat’s curt goodbye is just as routine as everything. She knows from the moment I’m contacted that the clock is ticking.
That every passing second is crucial.
Information regarding where we are headed has me hitting the keys at the don’t overthink, just react speed I’ve been trained to. Traveling from here to the biggest hospital in Vlasta, Wisconsin is probably the only ease of the entire operation. I’ve made that trip by land and by air enough times to not only do it with confidence but to do it with confidence in even unideal conditions.
Like tonight.
Our small team swiftly executes each step we’re required, a technique that demands precision and division. One member focuses on getting gear while the other begins communications with those on the receiving end. Routes are solidified, verified, and filed by me before I physically relocate to inspect the aircraft. Once it’s confirmed it hasn’t been contaminated by snow or ice and that all parts are working to the best capacity they possibly can, loading of the crew as well as the cargo can occur.
While transporting body parts isn’t done with the same delicateness needed to transport an active bomb or something, it does require care.
And precision.
And taking into account the amount of force or pressure it’ll be under during the duration.
Dr. Katelyn Campbell, the blonde haired, blue-eyed baby doll looking pediatric surgeon, accompanying the organ has an unfortunate panicked expression that tells me this flight is going to be an uncomfortable one.
Newbies either need to be talked to in order to remain calm or do all the talking because they’re not calm.
And it’s not that I’m not sympathetic.
It’s just that all the extra chatter in the middle of a snowfall isn’t exactly helpful.
The beginning of our flight is a bit choppier than I like yet is about what I was expecting for the wind patterns. Humming the familiar tunes of Blind Gary Davis helps keep me alert, focused, and connected to the reason I always give this job everything I have.
I know what it’s like to watch your loved ones die before your eyes. And if I can help in any way to prevent that, even if it’s simply getting a doctor or a nurse or a left toe to you so that can save a person who matters to you’s life, I want to.
I don’t want anyone to know the loneliness that I’ve known.
Josephine Odom – or Jo Jo as she prefers to be called – is designated the task of soothing the young doctor and in doing so information I didn’t want to know unfortunately becomes known. Yes, we’re given some details, but only the most crucial ones such as how long the organ or tissue we are transporting is viable. Obviously, after doing this for some many years, you can guess what some shit is, yet you don’t have to.
Ignorance can truly be bliss.
Today would’ve been one of those days had she not told us she’s escorting the heart of a six-year-old child.
Hearing her recount the parents’ grief of loss and how she had to be somewhat callous in order to get this organ to another family, hurts harder than I have time to allow. Instead of tearing up or acknowledging the ache in my chest over the worry that that could someday happen to one of my kids, I channel everything into making better time.
Pushing past the slight visibility hinderance.
Communicating with the hospital to ensure that the landing pad is indeed clear of ice.
By the time we touch down, Dr. Campbell’s nerves are settled yet mine aren’t.
Jo Jo follows through on the assisting inside the building while Oscar Goodwin, the other member traveling with us, handles communicating with the receiving transport team regarding flight and refueling procedures.
I’ve been out of the vehicle for just seven minutes when Jo Jo reports back to me on the roof, expression fallen.
Blue eyes that are normally so bright and lively are disturbingly dim.
The shaking of my head is immediate.
Her nodding is reluctant.
My wordless argument continues over and over and over as I wildly whip my face around in denial.
