Chapter 6
On the third day in the hospital, Vivian was finally able to get out of bed and walk around by herself.
The wound on her side still throbbed violently, and every movement sent a sharp stab of pain through her.
But she insisted on walking to the bathroom on her own, refusing any help from the nurse.
She needed the pain. It was the only thing making sure she'd never forget how she ended up on that operating table.
The afternoon sun filtered through the blinds, cutting the hospital floor into bands of light and shadow.
Vivian leaned against the headboard, watching those stripes slowly shift from the foot of the bed toward the wall.
From the hallway outside, there were footsteps and some quiet chatter.
Two nurses pushed a med cart past the door.
"Ms. Summers in 301 is so lucky," the younger nurse said. "Finding a kidney match is nearly impossible, but hers just worked out like that."
"Shh, keep it down," the other nurse cautioned. "Don't talk about what goes on in the VIP ward."
"I just find it strange," the younger nurse continued. "If you look at her chart, her kidneys started failing way too quickly. Just six months ago, she didn't even need a transplant..."
Their footsteps faded away, and the rest of their conversation was lost to the distance.
Vivian's fingers clenched the bedsheet without her even realizing it.
Six months ago.
She remembered how, six months ago, when Rachel was first diagnosed with kidney failure, Leon looked like a shell of himself, as if all the life had drained out of him.
That night, Leon was drunk, holding Vivian in his arms and mumbling apologies to Rachel. He said if Rachel hadn't taken the hit for him in that car accident years ago, he'd be the one stuck in that hospital bed now.
Vivian didn't say anything back then. She just quietly patted his back.
Now, when she thought about it, it was just laughable.
Someone was approaching from the hallway outside.
This time, it was just one person, stopping right at the door.
"Ms. Lane?" a gentle male voice said.
Vivian looked up.
Standing in the doorway was a young doctor in a white coat, thin-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, holding a patient file.
His name tag read, "Lucas Reed, Attending Surgeon, Nephrology."
"I'm making my rounds," Lucas Reed said as he stepped in, giving the IV drip a quick look. "How are you feeling today?"
"I'm alright," Vivian replied softly.
Lucas came to a stop beside the bed but didn't immediately examine her wound.
After a few moments of silence, he finally spoke. "The day of the surgery... I was in the operating room next door."
Vivian stayed silent.
"I checked your pre-op labs," Lucas murmured, barely audible. "Your hemoglobin was just 8, and your platelets were low. Normally, with numbers like that, it's really not safe to go through major surgery."
Vivian suddenly looked up at him.
Lucas glanced away, busying himself with the patient file. "But they still did the surgery, and it was smooth."
He said "smooth" so softly, it was almost a sigh.
"What are you trying to say?" Vivian asked, her voice surprisingly calm.
Lucas closed the patient file and adjusted his glasses.
He glanced out the door, making sure the hallway was empty, before turning back to her.
"I've reviewed Ms. Summers' medical records in the system," Lucas said, his words slow and deliberate. "The progression of her kidney failure... it doesn't quite follow the usual pattern. Of course, there are always exceptions."
He paused and then continued, "There are some drugs, especially ones abused overseas, that can cause this kind of kidney damage, but it's pretty rare. You'd need some really advanced toxicology tests to know for sure."
Vivian's hand slowly clenched under the blanket.
"Why are you telling me this?" Vivian asked.
Lucas was silent for a long time.
The sunlight from the window caught the tired lines on his face, making him look even more exhausted.
"Three years ago, my mentor treated a similar case," he finally said. "The patient was a young woman too. Her kidneys suddenly failed, and her family scrambled to find a donor. As soon as a match was found, they scheduled the transplant right away. But three months after the surgery, she suffered a severe rejection, and she didn't survive."
He glanced at Vivian, a complex emotion flashing behind his glasses.
"After the autopsy, they discovered her kidney damage was actually caused by medication. It wasn't primary kidney disease at all. In other words... the transplant might have been completely unnecessary."
The room was so quiet that the only sound was the faint drip of the IV fluid.
Vivian stared at him, her voice measured and cold. "Are you hinting at something?"
"I'm not implying anything," Lucas said, standing up and slipping back into his professional tone. "Ms. Lane, just focus on resting. I'll check on you again tomorrow. If you feel unwell, just press the call button."
He lingered at the door, his hand resting on the doorknob for a moment.
"By the way," he said without turning around, "my private number is listed at the nurse's station. If you have any... medical concerns, just contact me."
The door closed softly.
Vivian sat propped against the headboard, staring up at the ceiling.
The afternoon sunlight now painted the wall, the boundary between light and shadow blurring, fading into one another.
She raised her hand, looking at the veins mottled with purple from too many IVs.
Drug abuse.
Completely unnecessary.
And she couldn't shake the nurse's comment from the hallway, "Just six months ago, she didn't even need a transplant..."
All those fragments spun and collided in her mind, slowly forming a realization she was too afraid to face.