Alison Strobel - The Heart of Memory

Shaun nodded slowly, his eyes trained on the Bible in her lap and his expression unreadable. “No, you’re right. You’re absolutely right.”

“We need to repent. Now.”

Shaun looked to the doorway, then took her hands as she bowed her head. Tears slipped from her cheeks as she asked forgiveness for their prideful independence and lack of desire. Her spirit ached almost as much as her chest as she cataloged all the ways she’d turned Abide & Abound into just another job, all the ways her relationship with Christ had been reduced to a business contract, and Shaun mumbled his agreement along with her. As she prayed she felt a renewed sense of connectedness not only with God, but with Shaun. They’d been more like coworkers than man and wife for a while now; maybe this would reignite the flame they’d once had.

They murmured their amens, Savannah wiping the tears from her face and Shaun giving her hands a brief squeeze before sitting back down in the chair beside her bed. A lightness in her soul gave her a surge of hope. No wonder her body was in revolt. Her spirit had been sick. But maybe now that they were back on track, she’d begin to heal.

Savannah began reading the Psalms again. Now the words were leaping off the page and into her heart. A mix of remorse and relief had her alternately thanking God and confessing her sin as she read for the next hour. After a nurse interrupted her to check her vitals, she looked to Shaun. “Listen, regardless of what we find out today, I want you to call Pastor John and see if he can come over tomorrow. I think we’d really benefit from praying with him. Maybe we should start meeting with him once in a while, to keep us accountable. What do you think?”

“Accountable? What do you mean?”

Savannah was disappointed by his defensive tone. “Just… I don’t know, making sure we don’t slip back into that rut again. You don’t think that would be helpful?”

“That makes me feel like you don’t think I can be trusted to do the right thing without someone breathing down my neck.”

The comment was out of character. Savannah gaped in surprise. “Shaun, what on earth would make you think that? That’s not what I said at all, and it’s certainly not what I meant.” He had always been more private than she when it came to his faith, but she never would have expected him to respond like this. “You used to meet with Alex and Kurt and William once a month for breakfast – that’s the kind of thing I’m thinking of, just a checking-in now and then, someone to ‘report’ to besides just each other. That obviously isn’t working.”

Shaun shook his head and waved a hand to dismiss the idea. “Look, when you’re out of here and we’re back to normal, then we can talk about that kind of thing. For now I don’t even want to think about A &A. I just want us to focus on getting you better.” He sat back in his seat and reopened the book he’d been reading, effectively ending the conversation whether she was finished or not.

Hurt but too tired to fight, Savannah flipped back to the Psalms, but instead of reading she closed her eyes and began to pray.

She awoke with a start, unsure of how long she’d been sleeping. The cardiologist stood at the foot of her bed. “I’m sorry to have interrupted your nap, Mrs. Trover,” he said, his deep voice soothing her. “But I wanted to talk to you about our next step.”

Savannah clutched the Bible tightly with one hand. Shaun grabbed the other. “So you know what’s wrong?” Shaun asked.

“Well, yes and no.” The doctor pulled the curtain as far to the other wall as it would go, giving them the most privacy they’d get in a shared room. He perched himself on the edge of the bed and consulted the printout he held. “Based on a lack of indicators for congenital issues, we’re guessing a virus has attacked your heart- which would make sense, given the flu you had. We just don’t know what virus, though honestly it doesn’t matter at this point. It’s the result that we’re concerned about – namely myocarditis. Heart failure, in layman’s terms. We’re going to keep you here, get you started on some medications that will hopefully help slow down the failure, monitor you for a few days to track your heart’s efficiency, and that will help us determine what the next step is. Typically we can’t do a lot for the myocarditis; we’ll treat the symptoms and give your body the rest and support it needs to heal the heart itself. To that end, we’ll keep you on the heart monitor to watch for arrhythmias, put you on a restricted diet, start you on digoxin and Lasix, and see how things go for the next week or so.”

“A week?” Savannah rubbed a hand over her eyes. “That’s so long.”

“Well, honestly, it may be longer than that. We just have to see what happens.”

Shaun sat on the edge of his seat. “So what are you looking for over this next week then? And what are the options at that point, the possibilities?”

“Well, if things go the way we hope they do, then your heart will begin to strengthen, we’ll see some improvements in energy and strength, and your heart’s efficiency will recover to where it should be. Most patients do recover from myocarditis with standard supportive treatment, and your previous health is a good indicator that you will.”

Savannah was afraid to ask what was on her mind, but more afraid of the unknown. “And if I don’t improve? What then?”

“Hopefully it won’t get to that. But depending on how things go, we may have to try some other medications, see if they slow the failure and help turn things around. A pacemaker may be necessary, if your heart’s rhythm gets out of sync. But if you continue to worsen at the pace you have so far, it’s possible you’ll need a heart transplant.”

Savannah feared her heart would stop right then. She couldn’t even bring herself to look at Shaun, knowing she’d break down. “A transplant? It could get that bad?”

“There is a possibility, yes.” He stood and hung the chart back on the foot of her bed. “But don’t dwell on that. Your chances for a full recovery are good.”

He gave them a parting smile and nod, then left them to sit with the reality of a heart so broken it might never heal.

SHAUN WOKE DISORIENTED, THE LAST of his dream still playing out in his mind as he opened his eyes to a room with too much light. He shook the disturbing images from his head and checked the clock, then groaned when he saw he’d overslept.

By the time he got downstairs for breakfast it was almost nine o’clock. He heard Jessie in her room, talking on the phone, and realized he couldn’t leave for work until he told her what was going on with Savannah. She’d already been asleep when he’d gotten home the night before, and he’d been reluctant to wake her since he wasn’t sure if she had a morning shift. Apparently she did not, which meant she was probably on the phone with Adam; that conversation could go on for hours. Shaun decided to have his breakfast and then ask her to hang up so they could talk.

“… And then we could do a sundae bar for dessert, maybe see if The Sweet Shoppe would be willing to donate – oh wait, my dad’s here, hold on a sec.” She covered the mouthpiece of her cell with her hand. “Hey, Dad, what’s up? I didn’t know you were still here.”

“I overslept this morning. Can we talk for a minute before I leave for work?”

Her face clouded. “Yeah, hold on.” She went back to her phone. “Hey, let me call you back. My dad needs me for a minute. Cool?… Okay, love you too. Bye.” She hung up and tossed the phone on the bed. “It’s about Mom, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.” He sat across from her on the bed, their knees touching over the floral bedspread as he laid out the details, starting with Savannah’s collapse. “They’ve started her on some medications that might help – in fact, they seem fairly confident that they will. But she’s going to be in the hospital for at least another week, possibly more.”