No-one likes going to hospital, but for Candice the appointments always felt like Groundhog Day—a pointless and depressing repeat of the previous ones. Surgery for her condition was inevitable, but there were only three ways she could get it.
The first way was to pay for it, and short of some kind of miracle that was never going to happen. The second was for all the people on the waiting list before her to progress through, either by receiving their life-saving defibrillator implant or via the unfortunate opposite scenario—which she didn’t even want to think about. The third way was by falling to within inches of her life; then and only then would they perform emergency surgery.
According to her doctor, it was lucky she was young, and, other than this condition, she was also healthy. But that first diagnosis was three years ago. Candice certainly didn’t feel young anymore. Or healthy.
Jack was normally a bundle of stress on the drive to the hospital, but this morning he seemed unusually chirpy. When he began to whistle she glanced over at him. He was clean-shaven today, and his hair, a bit longer than usual, was neatly parted off centre and swept back. She noticed he was wearing aftershave. He hadn’t used this scent in a while. “You seem happy.”
Jack grinned at her. “I feel good about today.”
“Why?”
“Don’t know.” He shrugged. “I just do.”
It was usually her propping him up. Ever since she’d been diagnosed, Jack had become increasingly angry with the doctors and frustrated with their inability to help. Last time she thought he was going to leap over the table and punch Dr Shaw in the nose. Maybe he was feeling a little embarrassed about that. After all, the doctor was on the verge of calling security when she managed to drag him away. Jack had yelled profanities right along the hallway and hadn’t stopped until they’d reached the car. She couldn’t remember another time when he’d raised his voice at anyone. They’d laughed about it afterwards.
But he seemed to be trying a different approach today.
He pulled in to the parking tower, and it wasn’t until they reached the fifth level that they found a spot. “Stay here, I’ll get a wheelchair.”
“I’ll be okay.”
He glared at her and she knew it was pointless to argue. As he strode from the car she reflected on the decline of their life. Four years ago they’d had it all. They’d lived in a beautiful house, she had a job she loved working in a childcare centre just down the road, they each had a car, they went out and enjoyed life, and most importantly they were both healthy. Now she couldn’t even walk fifty metres without struggling to breathe.
She rolled her head back and stared at the car roof interior. “Why me?” she said aloud.
Of course the doctors couldn’t answer that. Her heart condition was apparently hereditary, but they’d found no trace of it in her family history. She’d never smoked, hardly drank alcohol and pretty much lived a healthy life. Often she wondered if this was a test. Was this God’s way of challenging her? If so then she was determined to beat it. No matter what happened, she wasn’t going to be defined by this condition. As far as Candice was concerned her ventricular tachycardia could go screw itself.
She heard Jack whistling before she saw him come racing around the corner with the wheelchair. As instructed, she waited for him to help her out of the car. Once she settled into the chair, he zipped along at an abnormally fast pace. “Hey, slow up, baby. Don’t want to give me a heart attack.” Jokes aside, it was unfortunately possible.
He slowed down.
After the standard two-hour limbo in the overcrowded and aptly named waiting room they were finally welcomed into Dr Shaw’s office. Jack stepped in front of the wheelchair and offered his hand to the doctor. “Doctor Shaw,” Jack said. “Please accept my apologies for what happened last time. I’m so embarrassed about what I did. I promise you’ll never see anything like that from me again.”
Dr Shaw accepted his handshake with a smile. “Thanks for the apology. But it’s okay, Jack. I totally understand your feelings. Unfortunately I see this situation on more occasions than you’d care to imagine.” Candice didn’t know how the doctor did it. In this profession you’d expect him to be aged beyond his years, wrinkled deep from worry and a bundle of nervous energy. But instead he was always quick with a smile, seemed eternally relaxed and although she didn’t know his age, she imagined he looked younger than he actually was.
“It’s just the sense of doing nothing that drives us crazy,” Jack said as he took a seat beside Candice’s wheelchair.
Jack was constantly downplaying what he’d done since she became ill. When they couldn’t afford her medication, he sold her car. When the doctor’s bills had continued to pile up, he’d sold their house. Their new little home was in a caravan park just six kilometres from the hospital. That was no fluke. Jack knew the ambulance could make the trip in four minutes—traffic permitting. Two of their neighbours knew of her condition and one of them, Rose, had the other end of an alarm that Candice could activate if she needed help.
Dr Shaw did his standard tests: checked her heart rate, pupils, down her throat. He removed the EKG Holter monitor that she’d put on before she went to bed last night and plugged the portable recorder into his computer to download the results. While he was waiting he asked her the standard twenty or so questions.
“How are you sleeping?”
“Are you taking your medication in order and at the same time each day?”
“Have you had any more incidents?”
When she described what happened the other day, he tapped away on his computer while he watched her with kind, caring eyes.
She finished describing the episode and seconds later he stopped typing.
He wrapped a blood pressure monitor around her upper arm and pumped it up. “Your blood pressure is good. I’m confident we have the medication right now.”
“But what about the other day?” Candice asked.
He rubbed his chin. “You say you were just sitting down and chatting.”
“Yes, but when I stood up it happened.”
He nodded and a frown wrinkled his forehead. “Would you say you were a little excited or agitated?”
She shook her head, then shrugged. “Maybe, but only a little.”
The doctor turned back to the computer but refrained from typing anything.
Jack rested his hand on her knee. “So, Doc. Just to clarify, the operation costs $62,000. Is that right?”
Candice shot him a look. Where’s he going with this?
“Oh, I can’t remember exactly.” Dr Shaw tapped away on the keyboard.
“And the after-hospital expenses should add up to about $12,000. Right?”
“Honey.” Candice put her hand over Jack’s and squeezed. “We have all this information at home and we—”
“I know. I’m just checking it hasn’t increased again.”
“Okay, so I’m looking at your details now.” Dr Shaw ran his finger down the screen. “You don’t have any medical insurance, right?” He scrunched up his nose. “So, that means with theatre costs, anaesthetists, cardio-thoracic surgical services, pathology, radiol—”
“Just the total please…Doctor Shaw?” Jack interrupted.
“Well, provided there are no unexpected costs that we haven’t accounted for, it would be $74,334.” His voice lowered at the mention of the price.
She didn’t blame him, the cost was outrageous. Who has that kind of money lying around?
“And Candice will be in hospital about four days?”
“That’s correct.” Dr Shaw nodded in her direction.
“And the results should be instant.”
“Well, not exactly instant. But once Candice recovers from the surgery”—he turned to her—“there’s no reason why you can’t go back to living a normal life.”
Usually, by this stage of the doctor’s visit, Jack would be begging the doctor to move Candice up the waiting list. But for some reason, today Jack had a smile on his face. In fact he was grinning like a man who’d just inherited millions. Candice wondered if her situation was making him just a little bit crazy. The surgery wasn’t going to happen anytime soon and all these questions about her potential recovery were pointless. Getting his hopes up like this was only setting him up for a soul-shattering fall.