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Robbie
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    year, his chances improve,” Dr. Averitt recited, as if they were talking about the warranty on a dishwasher, not a tiny little boy.
    “Even with the transplant… he could still… not make it?” Julian
    asked, choking on the words.
    “Yes,” Dr. Averitt said quietly. “If the heart rejects, he contracts an
    infection, or his kidneys fail post-op, we could lose him. That’s why each day, each month, and each year he survives after the transplant, his chances improve.”
    “Oh my God,” Julian whispered, finally succumbing to the tears. He
    wished he’d asked his parents to come back for the meeting, but he hadn’t wanted to worry them. Liam and Clay were a consolation, but right then
    he needed flesh and blood people. When Dr. Martinez said they needed to
    have a conference about Robbie’s condition, he had no idea the diagnosis would be so horrific.
    “Take a day or two and talk about the option of a transplant with
    your family. But with your permission, we’d like to install the shunt
    tomorrow morning,” Dr. Averitt said quietly. The doctor closed a
    notebook with a six-building linear representation of the Chicago skyline on the cover.
    “Why wouldn’t I choose to save his life?” Julian looked between the
    doctors and then finally at Liam, feeling confused. If a chance existed to save Robbie’s life, even a chance smaller than 70 percent, what parent
    wouldn’t take it? Seven out of ten, thirty-five out of fifty, seventy out of a hundred… they weren’t great odds, but better than half, or less.
    “Transplants are traumatic, both for the recipient and for the family.
    In order to qualify, you’re going to have to meet with the transplant team and undergo psychological and financial examinations. You need to have
    a plan in place for someone to care for him if you were to become unable.
    In order for a candidate to be considered, they must prove they are capable and willing to commit to all of the follow-up care, because even in the first five years, it can run into a million dollars in medical costs,” Dr. Dane said, speaking up for the first time. “I am the transplant coordinator for St.
    Mary’s, and it’s my job to prepare you for the reality of what you’re
    facing. He will need to be on medications for the rest of his life. Because of the recovery from the transplant, he will be developmentally behind
    kids his age for several years. He will need constant medical care for the first year while we make sure the heart is functioning correctly. It’s a huge undertaking for a family, much less a single father.”

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    JP Barnaby

    “And if I were a single mother?” Julian asked, trying to keep the
    anger from his voice.
    “My concerns would still be the same,” Dr. Dane answered evenly.
    “My job includes matching the best recipients with the best donors in
    order to get the best possible success rates. A failed transplant is a wasted heart, Mr. Holmes. That is my only concern here.”
    Julian nodded. He desperately wanted to get out of this room with its
    even chairs and odd cheap prints hanging on the coordinating walls. The
    air suddenly felt thick and stale. The overwhelming news of his son’s
    condition threatened to suffocate him. Helpless and almost hopeless, he
    pushed his chair back in order to stand.
    “Julian, do we have your permission to install the shunt?” Dr.
    Martinez asked gently. “I have the papers here for you to sign, and then I suggest you go and talk to your family. We’ll schedule the procedure for early tomorrow morning. You should stay home and rest tonight, because
    tomorrow will be a long day.”
    He took the paper from the doctor, signed his name at the bottom
    without reading it, and then ran from the room. He noticed Liam and Clay didn’t follow. The hospital allowed him an hour with Robbie before the
    nurses asked him gently but firmly to go home and sleep. He’d been going on two days with no sleep, and they said they thought he