Have Another Little Bit Of My Heart

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Charles Dickens: "The pain of parting is nothing to the joy of meeting again."

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My doctor's words still echoed in my mind as I was driven home. "Sit on your hands. Take it easy. Nothing stressful. Walk, but don't push it."

I go by my nickname, Hawkeye. Apparently my dark wavy hair and physique reminded my college buddies of a television actor. The name stuck. Since high school, my nights and weekends had me enjoying the female charms from an ever changing cast of lovers. Even though I'm retired now, that hasn't changed.

I'm used to golfing on days ending in Y. How in the hell am I going to fill that gap? I shouldn't complain. At least I'm alive, which was in doubt five weeks ago. When your ticker starts being a sticker, it's not good.

What I've decided to do is akin to genealogy research. With all of the search capabilities on the internet, it should fill my days.

Day after day I take what little information I have and try to find out all I can about someone who died. Did I know this person? No, it was better that I didn't. My research needed to be unbiased.

Let's start with what I knew. Died at a Banner Hospital, five weeks ago. I was fairly certain of the date they died. This was going to be a lot tougher than I thought. That's good. I need it to consume my days from dawn to dusk, well except for my three times a day one mile nature walk. As I soon found out, my walks let me gather my thoughts, about how to proceed.

To start with, Banner Health was a lot bigger than I assumed. Twenty eight hospitals in six states. Due to privacy laws surrounding health records, I found myself relying on social media. Until I started this project, I had no social media pages. I still don't, but my female alias does. I used a picture someone sent me as 'mine'. The picture needed to be cropped, as she sent it to me to get my engine running which it did. My logic was that people would be more willing to talk with a woman than a man. Within a few hours I had social media pages on every popular site. Getting several thousand hits on my search for Banner told me I'd need to be a little more creative, to track down useful information.

Deciding to be direct, I posted a question on my social media pages. 'Do you know of someone who died at a Banner Hospital on December fifteenth?' Boy am I naive. I was bombarded with political trash, demands for nude photos, and friend requests. What was slow in coming in were people who answered my question.

It did, however, consume my waking hours. I live in the Phoenix area, and when my ticker quit tick-tocking properly, I rode a gurney into the Banner Boswell Hospital off of Grand, in Sun City. Nice people, probably because I had Medicare and a good supplement plan. They knew they'd get paid.

After discarding the ridiculous, I decided to pursue five seemingly realistic leads. Between that and the massive amount of garbage these social media sites were sending my way, I was working at this sixteen hours a day. One by one the leads fell apart. For every one that I dismissed, another two would take its place. A few weeks later, I'd narrowed it to Pat and Richard.

After several online chats, I had my answer. It was Patrick Richards, age 45, car crash victim. Now I needed to learn all I could about Pat's family. He had lived about thirty miles away. What really helped was his mother-in-law was quite active on several blogs.

As best I could tell, Pat's parents were deceased. His mother's obituary stated that Pat had a sister. Once I was cleared to travel, I planned on meeting her.

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With a little detective work, I managed to put an address to Bertha, Pat's mother-in-law. With a snail mail note, I broke the ice.

She was skeptical, which wasn't unexpected. Once you're retired, it's like you have a bullseye on your back. Day after day the scammers try to get you to fall for some scheme. My brain is still sharp, but some of the ladies I bed aren't.

Bertha agreed to meet outside of the police station in Mesa. As it turned out, she was my age, and desperately wanted to talk. Jaimie, her daughter, had become withdrawn and was abusing alcohol. I must be more charming than I ever believed. She was telling me family secrets like I was taking her confession.

Jaimie cheated. Pat found out. He sped off after the confrontation, fatally losing control of his car. Jaimie blamed herself for his death. Pat is survived by a sophomore at Arizona State, and a senior at Dobson High School. The amount of pain dripping from Bertha's words caused my heart to ache. Bertha arraigned a meeting with Brad and Cynthia, the surviving children. I wanted them to come to a particular restaurant. We agreed to do noon this upcoming Sunday

I cried a good cry, making sure to compose myself before entering JiMichael's Cafe. I saw Bertha sitting with a middle aged woman, and two young adults.

Bertha greeted me by standing, embracing me, and then kissing me on my cheek. Kind of like the leader of a pack letting all know that I was not a threat. It took but a few seconds to be introduced to Jaimie, Brad, and Cynthia.

Bertha got things going "Let's eat first. What do you recommend Wilt?"

"I have yet to find anything I wouldn't order again. These guys have taken the place of cooking for myself."

Waiting for dessert, I tapped on the tension filled table.

"I've invited you here today as I've been doing research, which led me to Pat. I know his death is still very fresh in your memory, but I wanted you to know what a great person he was. A slip of the tongue gave me an idea of where Pat died. For the last several weeks I've turned over stones trying to track him down. My intent is not to exacerbate your pain."

Tear dimmed eyes were at every place setting.

I continued "Jaimie, you believe you broke Pat's heart, but it survived. In that hospital across the street, I was on the wait list for a heart. My chances of living were practically zero, due to my rare blood type. As luck would have it, Pat had the same blood type. At some point in time Pat checked the box which allowed his organs to be used to save lives. I overheard a nurse tell the doctor that my new heart was coming from another Banner hospital. Without Pat's heart, I would already be buried."

Bertha already knew, but it was obvious she hadn't told the others. Their wide-eyed gasps and tears slowed my speech.

"For reasons I still don't understand, the hospital refuses to disclose who my donor was. I filled my recovery time tracking down my hero."

Bertha spoke "Jaimie, Brad, Cynthia, it was I that arraigned for you to meet Wilt. If you disagree, don't blame Wilt. He cleared it with me, and you can blame me."

I continued "Brad, Cynthia, if you ever want to hear your dad's heartbeat, feel free to bury your head against my chest."

I thought the wait staff was going to call the cops, as it looked like the kids were assaulting me. After standing, both Cynthia and Brad hugged me so hard I thought my ribs were going to crack. Jaimie waited patiently for her turn.

It took twenty minutes before we resumed eating. Cell numbers and email addresses were exchanged. Plans were made to get together here, at Bertha's house, at Jaimie's house, and also Brad's favorite spot near ASU.

Lunch started at noon but it was almost five before Jaimie released me for the last time. She apologized countless times, to Pat. Like a father, I told her my chest was off limits, until she gave up drinking. Reminding her that what was done was done, but she still had two children to guide. She swore on her father's grave that she would get straight. I believe her.

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Epilogue:

Three months after my transplant, I was back to golfing on days ending in Y. Only nine holes for now, and many days I skipped so that I could spend time sharing Pat's heartbeat.

I wasn't looking for a family, but I have one now. Throughout my life, I've enjoyed the company of many women. So many in fact that I never married. Up until my heart attack I was splitting time with several ladies. Now that I'm growing old, I can see that I missed out on something special.

Jaimie has turned her life around, which is good news for Brad and Cynthia.

Bertha reached out to Pat's sister, but she declined my offer to meet with her.

Sooner or later I'll be brave enough to put Pat's heart to the vigorous test that Bertha has offered.

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Please seriously consider checking the Organ Donor box. For me, it was on my driver's license renewal. Whether or not you are a demented pervert like me, your eyes and organs could improve the quality or possibly even save a life.