Page 7 of Fortuity

ChapterThree

Faith

Three YearsLater

“You’ve gotta have faith.”I’d been distracted while the nurse had asked me the usual questions to kick off my annual check-up appointment, but her whispered words of encouragement made me smile. I’d never asked how the office staff had learned about the tradition started by the nurses when I’d been in the hospital, but it wasn’t because I hadn’t appreciated the reminder of one of the happier memories from my staythere.

The nurses had gotten into the habit of reminding me that I needed to have faith that things were going to get better each time they checked my vitals. It was how every morning had started for me for months—with a super early wake-up call by one of the nurses to make sure I hadn’t gotten sicker during the night while they teased me about my name. I never took offense though because I knew they didn’t mean anything bad by it. Although the members of my medical team were aware I was part of the foster system, I didn’t think they knew much about my background beyond that. And they definitely didn’t know my confusion aboutmyname.

I never understood why my mom picked Faith. She’d given up on hope before I was even born, and having a baby girl sure hadn’t changed her outlook. Her approach to mothering didn’t inspire flights of fancy—quite the opposite in fact. Growing up with her indifference taught me reality was harsh and dreams were for suckers. That was her gift to me before she died, and the years that followed didn’t help much either. Being a cynical girl named Faith was just one of life’s little ironies Iguessed.

Taking a deep breath,I tried to settle my nerves and flashed the nurse an almost-genuine smile. She gave my hand a gentle pat, and my fake smile turned into a genuine grin. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for how good you guys are at your jobs. So I do have faith—in allofyou.”

“Have it in yourself, too. Because we do, and for good reason.” She dug a piece of paper out of her scrub pocket and smoothed it open. “Maybe I should ask you to sign this for me so I can say I knew you before you becamefamous.”

My cheeks warmed, and I knew I was blushing. “I’m never going to be famous, not with a degree in social work. But I’ll be helping people, which is more importantanyway.”

“From what I read in the paper”—she folded the article that’d run in Sunday’s edition and put it back in her pocket—“youalreadyhave.”

I wasn’t used to compliments, and I looked down at my hands in my lap as I fidgeted on the exam table. She gave my hand another squeeze before she walked out of the exam room and left me alone to wait for my doctor. It was only a few minutes later when he rapped his knuckles against the door and poked his head inside the room. “Everybody decentinhere?”

“It’s only me; which you know,” I chuckled, shaking my head as he came in and shut the door behind him. “Just like you know that I’m decent because it’s been a couple of years since I’ve had to wear one of those awfulrobes.”

“Yeah, but asking nevergetsold.”

Dr. Stewart enjoyed his corny jokes, and I’d quickly gotten used to them when I first started seeing him. “Neither doesanswering.”

“I’m glad you think so.” He shook his head as he sat on the stool next to the counter and rolled towards me. “The patient I saw before you did not appreciate my sense ofhumor.”

“A toughaudience,huh?”

“Very tough,” he sighed. “But I guess I have to cut them some slack since this was only their second post-op appointmentwithme.”

I thought back to how I’d felt after I’d been discharged from the hospital and started to see Dr. Stewart in the outpatient clinic. Even though I’d been staying in a rehabilitation facility and they’d done all the heavy lifting to get me there, the effort required on my part had been enough to exhaust me. “Yeah, some grouchiness is to beexpected.”

“Indeed.” He grabbed his stethoscope and did the usual exam stuff—listened to my breathing, checked my ears and throat, looked for any signs of excessive swelling in my belly and ankles. “You’relookinggood.”

I sat up and scooched to the edge of the table, my legs swinging because I was trying to burn off nervous energy. Even though my blood tests had been relatively stable with only one minor issue over the past year, I couldn’t get rid of the feeling that the other shoe was about to drop. Getting the kidney transplant was one of the few things that had gone right in my life, and it was like I was always waiting for it to go wrong somehow. “How about my numbers? Are they stilldoingokay?”

He dropped his stethoscope in his lab coat pocket and sat back down, rolling towards the counter on the opposite wall to grab his tablet. After a few taps on the screen, he smiled at me. “They’re really good. Your WBC, HCT, and PLTS have remained stable over the past year. Same with your creatinine and BUN. Your electrolytes are right where they should be, so you’ll need to keep taking the magnesium supplement. Your Prograf levels have remained where I’d like to see them after the dosage change we made in February, so we don’t need to make any additional changesthere.”

When I’d first gotten sick, I’d barely been able to follow the explanations the doctors and nurses had given me. It was as if they were speaking in a foreign language I’d been desperate to understand because it held the key to my survival. But now I didn’t even blink at all the acronyms Dr. Stewart used since I’d gotten used to hearing them and could easily follow along. “Please tell me that means I can go back to doing blood work every three monthsagain.”

“I think that can bearranged.”

“Yes!” The tension drained from my body, and I pumped my fist in victory. It’d taken me awhile to work my way up to quarterly needle sticks at the lab and annual visits with Dr. Stewart, so it’d sucked when my numbers slipped and he’d made me start going to the lab more often over the pasthalfyear.

“Are you sure? I could make you go in every month if you’d prefer,” heteased.

I held my hands up in surrender. “No need to threaten me with extra needle sticks. Quarterly isperfect!”

“That’s what I thought.” The humor leached from his expression, and I braced myself for what he was about to say when he wagged his finger at me. “I know it’s your senior year and you’ll be busy, but you need to remain as vigilant as ever when it comes to your health. Eat right, take your medications, get plenty of rest, and try to keep the stress to aminimum.”

I wrapped my arms around my middle, hugging myself in a protective gesture that was instinctive. I knew Dr. Stewart was only lecturing me because he meant well. He wanted me to stay healthy, but I felt like he was criticizing me, and it made me a little bit defensive. “I promise that I’m doing my best. The food services staff on campus has gotten used to me asking questions about everything they serve. It’s to the point where they spout off the sodium content as soon as they see me. When there isn’t a great meal option for me, I hit up the salad bar.” I jerked my thumb towards the backpack I’d left on the chair against the wall. “I always have a water bottle on me to make sure I’m drinking enough. I’ve never been to a kegger and barely touch alcohol. But getting enough sleep and avoiding stress is easier said than done when most of my classmates resort to all-nighters to keep up their grade pointaverage.”

“I know you’re doing your best, Faith,” he murmured, offering me an encouraging smile as he leaned forward. “But it doesn’t stop me from worrying about you because I also know it’s harder for you than most of my other patients because you’re on your own without a support system inplace.”

I couldn’t argue his point because it was true. The reason I hadn’t been a good candidate for a transplant was because of my home situation, and I was even more alone now than I’d been back then—but better off for it. I shrugged, hoping he’d take the hint and quickly move past my home life—or lack thereof—as a topic of discussion. Even after all this time, I still hadn’t grown accustomed to the doctors and nurses knowing so much about me. With my childhood being what it was, I valued my privacy and didn’t open up to peopleeasily.

---