The Body Shoppe

“What is the diagnosis?” I asked frantically as the doctor left the room.

“Very bleak, your dad is on his second heart. If he doesn’t attain a third one, he will die. He was able to be saved before, but I am not sure about this time. The town’s old parts store was put out of business long ago. I am not sure exactly what we can do at this point…” he said, every word giving its own punishing blow.

“How are others getting their transplants?” I asked.

“Annalisa, I am sorry to say, but they aren’t really. Most of this town can’t really afford to leave the town in order to get the transplants they need. Your family may be able to help save your dad, but you have to find a good transplant shop. The government doesn’t provide an organ donor list now, since the medical sector was privatized. I will make some calls and see what I can do, my family has worked with your dad for years now,” Dr. Lampton spoke.

“Okay, thank you so much,” I said silently.

My dad has had heart problems all his life. He went through his first heart, got a second one, and it is now failing on him. A second heart is necessary for his survival. I am not exactly sure if I can deliver that.

The town of Cottage Lake was just another gone wrong effect of the privatization of the medical industry. The people who can provide transplants, charge an arm and leg for them, and the people who can afford those price gouges pay for them. A few years ago, to the town of Cottage Lake’s despair, our local transplant shop was closed down, due to underfunding. Transplant shops aren’t exactly easy to keep or insure. The owners just couldn’t afford to keep the store, and no one in Cottage Lake could afford to keep it up either. Except my dad, who couldn’t keep up with the work required to run the shop. He wanted to take it over though, and still regrets the decision today.

My name is Annalisa, I have lived in Cottage Lake all of my 25 years. I have helped take care of my dad when he has been sick. This time it is more serious than ever, because it will be the first time he won’t be able to get his heart at a nearby transplant shop. It will be awfully hard to find one by asking around town. People who can afford to get a transplant usually leave town after they get a donor to be closer to a transplant surgeon, and the rest of the people aren’t really well enough off to afford a transplant.

I walked quietly into my father’s bedroom, and shut the door behind me. I took my usual place beside his bed, in a little comfortable chair. I grabbed his hand, and pressed it reassuringly.

“Annalisa, smile please, for once,” my father croaked.

“Trust me, I’m trying…” I trailed off.

“I’ve already cheated death once before, which is more than I can say for some people in this town. Don’t beat yourself up if you can’t find me a proper transplant donor. I’ll be alright,” he stated.

“I just don’t want to lose you dad, I am not ready for that,” I sobbed.

“Work with what your given, but don’t be afraid of failure. I’ve lived my life, and I want you to live yours without worrying about when my heart is going to fail again,” he advised.

“Okay dad, I love you, please get some rest,” I said kissing him on his face, leaving a little trail of tears where my cheeks had once pressed.

“I love you too, and don’t cry for me,” he demanded while closing his eyes for his night’s sleep.

I slowly left the room, closing the door firmly behind me. I couldn’t believe what today had brought me; the sorrow that I may not ever get to hold and hug my dad after a while. This is definitely not the kind of news that brightens up your day.