Alison Strobel - The Heart of Memory

She took a slow sip of the tea after waiting just long enough that she wouldn’t scald her tongue. The heat streaked down her throat but died in her chest, as though swallowed up by ice-which is what her chest felt like these days: as though a snowball sat in its center. Her cardiologist chuckled when she described it. “I haven’t heard that one before.” She didn’t appreciate that he didn’t seem to take it seriously.

She thought she’d feel a lot better if she could just get the energy to do something. She’d lost so much time during her illness; it was driving her crazy to lose so much more. She’d envisioned the new heart being like a new engine in a run-down car, thinking she’d jump back into life and make up for all the days she’d spent on the sofa and in the hospital. But here she was, almost three weeks post-op and only slightly less sluggish than she’d been in the days before her collapse. The problem was that her brain was ready to get back in the game; it was her body that didn’t have the stamina.

Shaun kept telling her to get her laptop out and get back to work on the book she’d started to brainstorm in the hospital. She’d managed to get the whole book’s outline done before growing too weak to work, and at the time she’d been quite pleased with its depth. But she’d made the mistake of mentioning it to her agent when talking to her the week after her surgery, and the agent had called two days ago to tell her they had a contract for the book. “Didn’t even need to see a proposal,” he said with a laugh. “Just happened to mention it to the publisher over lunch and they begged for it. Now, they don’t want to set a deadline for you, because they know you’re still recovering and don’t want you stressing out over finishing it. But the sooner the better, of course, to capitalize on the buzz. It would be ideal if we could get it on the shelves by the end of October.”

She knew her agent didn’t mean to sound heartless. But she couldn’t help feeling hurt by him and her publisher taking such a materialistic view of her personal suffering. She understood the nature of the business, but it didn’t change the fact that it made her mad. Maybe that was why she was balking at working on the manuscript.

Savannah made another cup of tea, then opened her laptop. She briefly thought of launching the word processing program, but clicked instead on the internet browser. She never spent much time online, save for doing email; she’d never felt comfortable navigating the nebulous World Wide Web. But on a whim she went to a search engine and entered “heart transplant support” just to see what would happen.

She hadn’t expected over seven million returns for the search, and laughed aloud when she saw the number. This would certainly keep her busy.

She scanned the first ten returns and clicked on one that said something about a forum. She found herself at a message board, something she’d never interacted with before. It took her a minute to figure out what it was, but once she made it into the forum and saw the list of threads, a smile spread wide across her face. Post after post from people just like herself filled the screen. She began to click each one in turn, reading them voraciously. Finally, people who understood what she felt, what she’d gone through! People who didn’t keep telling her how blessed she was, which made her feel horrible for not feeling more happy. She lost track of time as she read, and jumped when the doorbell rang.

“Surprise!” Her girlfriends stood on the front porch with balloons and a cake. Their festive mood mirrored the refreshing lightness she felt after reading the forum, and she welcomed them in with far more gratefulness and joviality than she would have had they come before she’d gotten online.

“You guys are sweet, thanks. Oh – that cake is too funny!”

Andi set the two-tiered, heart-shaped cake on the kitchen counter. “It’s strawberry, and none of us could recall if we’d ever seen you eat strawberry cake, so we decided to take a chance.”

“Oh, I’m sure it will be delicious.” Honestly, she wasn’t a fan of the flavor, but she wasn’t going to admit that after all the trouble they’d gone through. She got a knife from the drawer and wielded it above the frosting. “I much prefer being on this end of the slicing.” They laughed as she cut pieces for everyone, then Mary poured sparkling cider for everyone and they toasted to Savannah’s health.

When she took a bite of the cake, she was stunned at how delicious it was. “Oh my gosh, this is heaven.”

Colleen grinned. “So you do like strawberry cake.”

Savannah took another bite. “Well, I’ll confess I usually don’t. But this is… wow.”

“I’ll give you the recipe.”

“So how is it to finally be home?” Bethany asked between bites.

“Good. Not like I was expecting, but better than being in the hospital.”

“How is it not like you expected?”

“I just thought I’d be back in the swing of things sooner. I didn’t think I’d still be feeling this blah.”

“How long is it supposed to be until you’re back to normal?”

She shrugged. “They don’t know. Some people have more energy, some people never really get back to how they were. It’s just a waiting game to see which way I’ll go. Though these days I have my fears that I’ll fall in with the latter.”

Andi set her plate aside. “So is it weird, knowing a piece of someone else is inside you?”

The question made her squirm. “Um, well… yes.” Though these were her closest friends, she still had trouble talking about the details of the surgery. Even Shaun hadn’t asked questions like that yet. And if he had, she wasn’t sure she’d have answered honestly.

“Can you tell it’s someone else’s? Does it feel different?”

Bethany rolled her eyes. “It’s a heart, Andi. How many ways can it feel?”

“Well, I don’t know, maybe it’s one of those things that you don’t notice until someone goes messing around with it.”

Savannah wasn’t about to admit that yes, it did feel different, and she was acutely aware of it every minute of the day. “I notice it… sometimes… but it might just be the healing from the surgery.”

Mary nodded. “That would make sense. How are you healing up?”

“Just fine, according to the doctor.” She didn’t want to get into how she felt like she was still laid open on the table, at least emotionally, or how the scar running the entire length of her torso would never allow her to forget, no matter how much she wanted to.

Colleen gave Savannah’s shoulder a squeeze. “So the only thing left is to get you back to regular speed and everything will be fine.”

Andi put an arm around her shoulder. “God will take care of you. We’ll start praying that you’re renewed to your old self, or better.”

The comment rubbed her the wrong way, though she didn’t know why. She forced a smile. “Thanks.”

“You know,” Mary said to the others, “maybe the four of us could organize a little prayer team for Savannah. We should have started one back when she first got sick, but I don’t think any of us realized how bad it was going to get. Like you, Savannah, we all figured it was just the flu. And then things went downhill so fast…” She waved away the memory. “Anyway, the four of us, let’s do it. Once a week, we’ll pray over you, and commit to praying for you every day until you’re back to how you were.”

“That’s really sweet, but-”

“I love it!” Bethany said. “How about we meet at my place for coffee next Thursday around ten? Does that work for you, Savannah?”

“Um, I’ll have to check-”

“Why don’t we all check and email Bethany with our availability,” Colleen suggested.