The DONOR

By Dezarae DUNSMUIR

Dr. Colin Farnsworth, a famous heart surgeon, decides, since his daughter needs a heart transplant, to donate his own heart and designates his daughter is to receive it, bypassing the transplant list.  This is a compelling and thrilling read from start to finish encompassing all the events that take place, the people's lives affected an

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dragon's Press
• Release date: Jul 25, 2018
• ISBN: 9781949276244

Dezarae DUNSMUIR

Dezarae Dunsmuir is a celebrated author and poet. Born in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, she was prolific even as a child. At age 8, as a ballerina, she danced on stage with Mikhail Baryshnikov. At age 9, she hosted a television series about science. She went on to be syndicated coast to coast on radio, interviewing celebrities and offering valuable insights on issues important in Canada.

Book preview

PART ONE

Chapter One

3:10 am

There was something eerily haunting about OR 23 but he didn’t know what it was. His body was drenched with the cold sweat of fear as he walked toward the Operating Room. He was mystified as to why he should fear setting foot in a room he’d confidently entered so often in the past. None of this made any sense. All he knew was that his heart began pounding more fiercely with each passing step. The doors should be beckoning him with a comfortable familiarity. But they weren’t. For the first time in his life, he was truly afraid.

*********

The strident ring of the bedside phone jolted Harrison from his dream. He shook his head while he grabbed it, as if this motion would shake off the fear he felt just moments before. He glanced at the clock on his night table: it was 3:10 in the morning. Given his occupation, this was not an altogether unusual time for him to be roused from sleep. Considering the dream he had been having, Harrison Robson welcomed the interruption, even if he wasn’t on call this weekend.

Hello. Harrison’s voice was flat; his tone somewhat less than sociable.

Harrison, sorry about the hour.

Colin?

The sound of his friend’s voice was unmistakable. Harrison would know the voice anywhere. After all, he’d been listening to it since they were children. If Colin was calling at this hour, it had to be about something important. Any signs of sleep that lingered in Harrison’s head instantly evaporated.

Harrison’s wife, Amelia, lay beside him. The sudden change in her husband’s tone roused her immediately. She also knew that if Colin was calling at this hour, it meant something serious was happening. Her face mirrored her concern as she sat up in bed, listening in on the conversation.

Harrison, I need you to come to the hospital immediately. Once you’re in the hospital parking garage, call me on my cell-phone, said Colin calmly.

What is it, Colin? Is it Amber? Is she okay? Is it another patient?

Harrison, you’ll get the answers to all of your questions when you get here.

Colin, are you okay?

Just come, Harrison. You know me; I wouldn’t call if it weren’t vitally important. I figure it’ll take you ten minutes to change, find your wallet, cell-phone and keys and another twenty minutes to drive here. I am counting on seeing you here in precisely thirty minutes.

The phone went dead in Harrison’s hand.

What’s going on? asked Amelia as she watched her husband hurriedly dress.

I have no idea. Colin wouldn’t say.

‘Keys, keys, where are my keys?’ he wondered. The call had rattled him so much, he found himself forgetting his habits of a lifetime.

Is it Amber? Amelia’s tone mirrored the concern rising in her face.

Maybe, maybe not. I just don’t know. Harrison was quickly becoming exasperated. Colin had him on a strict timeline; he had absolutely no time to answer his wife’s questions.

I haven’t got a clue, Amelia. All I know is that Colin needs me and I have to be at the hospital in less than thirty minutes, answered Harrison tersely as he patted his back pocket in a last minute check for his wallet.

Call me.

As soon as I know something.

As Harrison backed his car out of the garage, he wondered what Colin’s call was all about. He had gathered from Colin’s tone that there wasn’t any time for him to ask any questions.

‘But friends never questioned friends, not when they have a friendship like ours,’ thought Harrison as he turned the car around. ‘We’ve been friends for more than thirty years and we have a bond of absolute loyalty and trust between us. No questions asked. If you are needed, you show up. That’s what we expect of one another and the expectation is always met. Period.’

**********

Eventually, Harrison did call Amelia. What Harrison told his wife was beyond either of their wildest dreams.

**********

It was less than five minutes since Colin had called. As he checked his watch for the third time, Dr. Harrison Robson noted he was ahead of schedule. Due to the lateness of the hour, the vast, empty highway awaited Harrison. For him, driving had always been a panacea, allowing him time to think through thorny issues in his life. The subtle growl of his car’s engine usually put a smile on his face but it didn’t this evening. Harrison sifted through the events of the early morning, wondering what was going on. And that damn dream kept skirting around the edges of his mind, too.

‘What in heaven’s name could Colin be up to?’ Harrison wondered as he shifted down for a corner. ‘What is all the mystery about, anyway?’

The car dug in and went around the corner with the ease of a gazelle. As he shifted gears for the straight stretch that he knew lay ahead for a few miles, Harrison Robson became more uneasy with each passing moment.

‘It must be Amber,’ he thought. ‘Why else would Colin call me in the middle of the night?’

Harrison racked his brain, going down the list of patients he and Colin shared. They had been lucky lately: there wasn’t anyone who was desperately critical. ‘That leaves only Amber,’ he thought with resignation.

The cold sweat of fear began to clutch at him for the second time that night. Dr. Harrison Robson had known many emotions in his life but - generally speaking - he hadn’t been truly afraid very often. ‘Right, it has to be about Amber and I’m absolutely terrified she’s going to die.’

Ruefully, Harrison realized that on this night fear was making up for lost time.

He checked his watch again. ‘I’ll be at St. Paul General in less than twenty minutes. I’m running a bit ahead of Colin’s schedule.’

This knowledge brought him a tiny bit of comfort in what was proving to be a most disturbing night.

Despite the decades of their friendship Harrison was at loggerheads with Colin about the treatment protocol for Colin’s daughter, Amber. He pondered their respective positions, mulling over each element. Dr. Harrison Robson carefully considered them as if he was examining a very fragile, antique Japanese porcelain teapot. He supposed the analogy was inevitable. Although the porcelain was created for a practical purpose, it was also incredibly fragile. The human heart was equally sturdy but it too could shatter, often without warning.

‘Whatever happens to Amber, the responsibility falls right onto Colin’s shoulders,’ he thought. ‘Amber is Colin’s daughter but his stubborn thinking about her treatment is courting disaster. Who knows? Maybe the disaster has already occurred?’ A shiver ran down Harrison’s spine at the thought of Amber’s untimely death.

The treatment protocol for Amber was one of the few things that Harrison and Colin had ever disagreed about. Both men were opinionated and each was convinced he was right. Just the other day, the topic resulted in a serious yelling match in Harrison’s office at the hospital. Harrison wanted Amber to have the VAD procedure done while they waited for a Donor heart. Colin not only resisted the idea, he had forbidden all the medical staff from even mentioning the VAD operation to Amber.

Truth be told, Colin knows that I’m right, Harrison gave voice to his thoughts as he drove the final stretch to St. Paul General. Amber needs a VAD; that’s what any heart surgeon or cardiologist would recommend in the same circumstances. If Amber knew the VAD procedure was an option, she’d want it, too. Hell, that’s what Colin has recommended a thousand times for his patients, yet is refusing to allow for his own daughter. Why not for Amber, I wonder.

Dr. Harrison Robson’s frustration was mounting; as it grew more severe, he started pounding on the steering wheel of his much-beloved European roadster. He certainly didn’t understand why Colin was stubbornly insisting on not allowing the operation.

‘Why won’t he let Amber have a procedure that could save her life? A VAD is good enough for Colin’s other patients, so why not his daughter?’ Harrison asked himself yet again while his thoughts were shouting at him at a most uncomfortable decibel level. ‘And why don’t I get a say? Amber is my goddaughter after all,’ he wondered.

With each passing block bringing him closer to St. Paul General, Harrison’s knuckles grew whiter as he clutched the steering wheel ever tighter. Precisely when he stopped to slide his parking card through the automated attendant, his cell phone rang.

Where are you, old friend?

Naturally it’s Colin, who else could it be? Harrison muttered before responding.

I’m just about to enter the garage and what’s with this old friend stuff? That’s way too sentimental for you, he responded matter-of-factly.

Harrison could hear the smile in Colin’s voice as Colin said See you in OR 23.

Hey, what’s this all about, why are we…? Harrison realized the line was dead. Again.

As he parked his car, a wave of dread swept over Harrison. ‘OR 23?’ he thought. ‘OR 23 is the same OR in that spooky dream I had this morning. I don’t like this whole dream, thing, not one little bit.’

Harrison’s thoughts cycled through puzzlement, dread and a slight irritation with Colin as he swiped his badge through the magnetic key at the garage entrance. He pulled to a stop in the parking spot marked Reserved for Chief of Medical Staff.

‘Not nearly as glamorous as it sounds but at least the position comes with its own parking place,’ he thought as he emerged from his sports car. At this hour of the night, parking wasn’t a problem but during regular daytime hours, having a reserved parking space was a prize envied by most of the St. Paul General staff.

Dr. Harrison Robson was a senior cardiothoracic surgeon at St. Paul General Hospital. He was rather new to his post as the Chief of Medical Staff, as he had been appointed just two months ago. The title brought with it many new responsibilities, as well as tension headaches induced by Harrison having to listen to the complaints of physicians. These ranged in seriousness from a lack of fresh bagels in the physician’s lounge to a dearth of nursing staff on the night shift in the Intensive Care Unit.

As Harrison walked to the hospital from the parking garage, he passed through a rear courtyard. The full moon was luminescent, casting tall shadows of the Miller Pavilion onto the courtyard flagstones. The stark contours of light and dark at play in the moonlight made Harrison temporarily forget his sense of urgency. He stopped for a few brief moments to breathe in the fresh night air.

‘Each day speeds by second by second but the hours of the night move at their own pace,’ he mulled philosophically. Another deep breath filled his lungs.

Looking up at the stars in the sky, he was filled with a childlike wonder at the expanse of eternity that lay before him. The sun rose quickly, hurrying along the dreams and fears of each day. But the moon was another matter: she rose at her own pace and revealed only what she chose.

‘The night teaches your soul patience,’ he thought. ‘Night offers you many expectations but promises you nothing. It is in the night that our lifetime’s worth of memories come forth to comfort – or torment – us.’

The thought of tormenting memories jarred him back to reality. And Colin.

And Amber.

With each passing moment, Amber was inching toward death, right in front of Harrison. Her cardiac index had dropped from 2.2 to 1.4. This dangerously low level meant Amber’s heart was having more and more difficulty pumping blood through her body. During the wait for a new heart, Amber’s creatinine level had more than doubled to 2.4. This was an indication that her kidneys weren’t getting enough blood to flush waste products out of her system.

All Harrison could do was stand by, full of anguish and frustration. Colin called the shots because Colin was Amber’s father.

**********

Harrison had no idea that he was about to become a helpless pawn in the greatest struggle any mortal could undertake. The struggle between the Creator and the Challenger.

The struggle between death and a stubborn father relentlessly driven to save his daughter’s life at any cost. In this drama, Harrison was nothing more than a character, albeit an important one. Each of his moves was crafted by the writer of the play and choreographed by its director. The playwright and director were one and the same, none other than his best friend, Colin Farnsworth.

**********

Dr. Harrison Robson began walking down the familiar corridor of the hospital completely unaware that he was at the center of a dichotomy of epic proportions. Each step was bringing him closer to the understanding of why Colin had summoned him to the hospital.

Some of Harrison’s feelings of unease and uncertainty were dispelled by his entry into the hospital corridor. He felt safe in the familiar surroundings and comforted by the knowledge that he was on his own turf. Harrison couldn’t recall how many times he had run through this area, rushing to answer an emergency call.

Harrison knew this place like the back of his hand. He knew the smell of the continuously circulated, almost artificial air because he had spent more twenty-hour days here than he could count. Harrison understood its particular ebb and flow of activity, depending on the time of day – and sometimes – the whim of fate. The surgical units; even the wind outside, took on an unexpected stillness in the early morning hours. The poetic side of Harrison always imagined the walls of the surgical units holding their breath, just waiting for the signal from each new dawn to commence the hustle and bustle involved with any surgery, especially cardiothoracic surgery.

On this night, being the master of his turf wasn’t good enough. As he strode toward OR 23, a jeering silence echoed back at him from each alcove and doorway he passed. ‘There’s quiet and then there’s too quiet,’ thought a disconcerted Harrison. ‘And this falls under the too quiet heading.’

The distinct lack of doors clicking open or shut, of heels rap-tapping on linoleum or of overhead lights buzzing, made the corridor far too silent for his comfort. The vacuum-like silence heightened Harrison’s sense of foreboding.

He took the elevator to the fourth floor that housed the operating suite. An ominous stillness greeted Harrison as the elevator doors opened. He punched in his entry code at the lock on the wall and the double doors slid open, allowing him to enter the OR. Harrison walked past the front desk toward the locker room. He was supposed to meet Colin at OR 23, which was at the end of the long hallway in which he stood.

Operating Room 23 was the OR in which heart transplants were performed because it was the largest OR in the hospital. There were many people involved in performing a heart transplant not just the surgical team, OR nurses and the anesthesiology team. There were transplant coordinators, various technicians and assistants, not to mention two or three different surgical teams, should other vital organs like kidneys or lungs be removed from the organ Donor. All of the people, as well as all of the surgical instruments, had to be sterile throughout all of the procedures. People also needed room to work in, so they wouldn’t be stepping on each other’s toes or bumping into one another, possibly compromising their sterility. A heart transplant increased the amount of traffic in an OR considerably.

Harrison noted that there wasn’t anyone at the front desk that stood just outside of the actual OR. This wasn’t right. He rubbed his arm as a reflexive nervous tingle ran down it. Harrison looked around and discovered that he was completely alone: not a technician in sight. No-one was taking blood samples back and forth to the lab. Another nervous tingle ran the length of his arm. More rubbing. No anesthesiology technicians were moving their equipment into OR 23. No nurse assistants were getting ready for another long transplant surgery. The nervous tingle in his arm was starting to move over his shoulder and into the back of Harrison’s neck. Still more rubbing.

Harrison knew the closed circuit monitors at the front desk recorded any activity in the Operating Room. He moved back to the desk and stood behind it, only to see that none of the monitors were on. Of course, there was no-one there to monitor them. Harrison felt the nervous tingle start to raise the hairs on the back of his neck. He rubbed at his arm and neck again, knowing through some primordial instinct in the reptilian area of his brain that something was dreadfully wrong with this scene. But the logical section of his brain refused to believe it.

‘Okay, no personnel, nothing on the monitors, that means there’s no transplant taking place in OR 23,’ he thought hopefully. ‘But Colin distinctly said to meet him here. I know he did. I wasn’t dreaming it.’

Now why would my best friend, who happens to be Chief of Cardiac Transplantation, be here, alone, in the frigging dead of night? Harrison was thinking aloud. Giving voice to his thoughts made him feel like he was whistling past a graveyard. This is getting spooky, he said softly.

"I don’t like this and I’m getting pissed off at Colin dragging me out of bed because he wants to play one of his jokes on