LITMIR.BIZ

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health concerns he had to return to the hospital immediately. But as he said goodbye to the nurses, thanking them again for all they’d done, returning to the hospital was the last thing on his mind. He was about to enter the world again and with a new heart in place, he intended to live life to the full.

      His parents carried his case and bags to the car and he sat in the rear, as his mother took the front passenger seat and his father drove. He put his earbuds in straightaway. He wasn’t being rude but they’d exhausted conversation during his long stay in hospital and they really didn’t have anything left to say to each other.

      His mother held his bag of medication protectively on her lap and it wasn’t long before she was sorting through it, reading the instructions on the huge assortment of boxes and bottles. She’d put herself in charge of his medication and had told him she’d bought Dosette boxes. As soon as they were home she’d put the pills he needed for the week into the boxes so none would get missed or taken twice. It had been drummed into them how important it was for him to take the tablets as directed and at the correct times. There were plenty to take: two types of immunosuppressants, antibiotics, blood-pressure-lowering drugs, diuretics, aspirin, anticoagulants, painkillers, and those were only the ones he could remember. Doses of some of them would decrease and even stop over time but he’d have to take immunosuppressants for the rest of his life. If he didn’t take them his immune system would recognize his heart was not his, label it as a harmful invader and attack and destroy it as if it was a virus.

      His mother would also be looking after his appointment card for the time being, and the printed handouts containing the lists of post-operative dos and don’ts. They had seen the dietician together and while much of the advice had been common sense – eat low-fat foods, limit cholesterol, salt and sugar intake – others were more specifically for transplant patients: fresh produce had to be washed well before cooking or serving as the bacteria and viruses it harboured could be transmitted to the transplant patient, whose resistance was lowered by the immunosuppressant drugs, rendering them more susceptible to infection. His potassium intake had to be managed, as did his fluid and calorie intake. The dietician had said that his new heart would be put under strain if he carried extra weight, but he’d been fit and healthy in the past so there was no reason why he wouldn’t be again. There’d been so much talk about his new heart that what had once been an innate organ like any other body part had become a living entity in its own right, and he was starting to resent the time and attention it demanded.

      But what Jacob hated the thought of most were the biopsies he’d have to have once a week for the next six weeks. He’d already had two and couldn’t stand the thought of more. He had to lie on the operating table while they gave him a local anaesthetic, cut a hole in his neck and pushed a wire down the vein and into his heart to cut out a small piece. It was then sent to the lab and examined for signs of tissue rejection. ‘Transplants aren’t for the faint-hearted,’ his surgeon had said. Arsehole!

      It was a little after 3 p.m. and as Jacob gazed out of the side window listening to his music he suddenly realized he was very hungry and craving meat, which was a first. Since meeting Eloise at university he’d become a vegetarian as she was, although he still ate fish, cheese and eggs. But right now, after all that healthy eating in the hospital, he was craving meat: a rump steak or a rack of ribs, rarely cooked red meat that he could sink his teeth into.

      ‘What’s for dinner, Mum?’ he asked, removing an earbud so he could hear her reply.

      She turned to face him. ‘I’ve made a vegetarian cottage pie,’ she said, pleased he was regaining his appetite. This dish had become one of his favourites and she’d put time and effort into making it. ‘Eloise is coming as soon as she can dismiss her class.’ Eloise was a primary-school teacher at a school not far from where she lived with her parents – about an hour away.

      ‘Any chance of some meat?’ Jacob asked. ‘I really fancy some tonight.’

      ‘Well, yes, if that’s what you prefer,’ his mother said, surprised. ‘I’ve got some steak in the freezer. I’ll take it out as soon as we get home.’

      ‘Count me in,’ his father said chummily, glancing at his son in the rear-view mirror. Neither of them were vegetarians except when Eloise joined them for a meal. Jacob knew that given a choice his father would much rather have meat than Quorn or soya beans any day. He threw him a conspiratorial wink in the mirror.

      ‘Oh Jesus!’ Jacob exclaimed as the rectory came into view. A large Welcome Home bunting was draped across the front of the house and bunches of balloons festooned the porch. ‘Did you have to?’

      ‘It was your mother’s idea,’ his father said, ignoring the blasphemy. They only used Jesus Christ’s name with reverence.

      ‘We can soon take it down,’ Elizabeth said, feeling a little hurt. She’d wanted everything to be perfect for his homecoming. ‘I thought you’d like it.’

      ‘Suit yourself,’ he said with a shrug.

      Clearly they were going to have to continue to make allowances during his convalescence. It was almost impossible to imagine how frustrating it must be for a lad of Jacob’s age to have to deal with chronic illness and then a major operation. But at least now he was home, and with time, patience and understanding, nature would do the rest. Allow at least six months, the surgeon had said, then gradually life will return to normal.

       Chapter Eight

      Mitsy, having heard the car draw up, was now barking furiously on the other side of the front door.

      ‘She’ll be pleased to see you,’ Jacob’s father said as he finished parking.

      ‘But remember not to let her lick your face,’ his mother warned. ‘And to wash your hands after stroking her.’

      Jacob nodded. More guidelines from the dos and don’ts list to reduce the risk of infection.

      His parents carried his bags into the house and Mitsy was immediately at his feet, panting and wagging her tail excitedly. Jacob automatically bent to stroke her and as he did so felt a sharp jabbing pain in his chest. He straightened. It was his own fault; he’d been warned to avoid sudden movements until his breastbone was fully healed. Leaving the dog, he went over and sat in one of the armchairs by the fireside. Another Welcome Home banner hung from the mantelpiece with more bunches of balloons either side. They’d certainly gone to town, he thought, and with a niggle of guilt wondered if he shouldn’t have been more grateful. His mother was now in the kitchen sorting out his medication. She meant well.

      ‘I’ll take these to your room,’ his father said, picking up his case and rucksack.

      Jacob stifled a sigh of frustration, resenting his dependence on them. He watched the fire for a few moments, unsure of what he should be doing now he was home. It felt strange, after all those weeks in hospital. ‘I’m going to my room for a while,’ he said at last.

      ‘Yes, of course,’ his mother said, stepping in from the kitchen. ‘You’re bound to feel tired to begin with. I’ll bring up your tablets. Would you like a snack and a drink to see you through to dinner?’

      ‘Just a drink,’ he replied, heaving himself to his feet.

      ‘Tea, fruit juice, milk? What would you like?’

      ‘A beer,’ he replied.

      She laughed; they both knew he was joking for he wasn’t allowed alcohol, as it would reduced the effectiveness of his medication. ‘Just as well you weren’t a drinker,’ she said. ‘At least you won’t miss that.’

      Upstairs, he found his father unpacking his case.

      ‘Leave that, Dad, I can do it,’ he said.

      His father hesitated. ‘OK, but don’t overdo it, son. You know what the doctor said.’

      ‘I won’t.’

      They

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