Number 223 - Monologue

Number 223

Monologue

By Marla Crowe

(This dramatic monologue is about the struggle and agony that one must endure while waiting for their number to come up on the transplant list. Two twin sisters share a need for new hearts. They discover that the bond they share as sisters is stronger than the hearts they have and that choices big or small must be made with care and sacrifice. )

I am number 223 on the waiting list. My sister is number 224. I am above her because my aortic function is .009% worse than my sister’s. It is only slightly worse but our doctor thinks that it could be significant so I get to have my transplant first. That is…if I make it that long. 223 seems like a long way off. I am the more realistic one. My twin sister Nina is the eternal optimist. “Oh Shayla, we are going to feel so good when this is all over. We are going to have two strong hearts to go with the strong bond that ties us together.” (Pause to let that sink in) She is right about the bond. When you are a twin, I think you do have a greater sense of closeness and compassion for your sibling. We have shared everything. We are the only two children of devoted parents. We grew up sharing clothes, schools, even the occasional boyfriend. Now we share a heart defect that will eventually kill us if we don’t get a transplant. It is severe enough that at this age when most kids are thinking about leaving home….We are still living with our parents. It is so we can conserve our strength. Everyone says it is only temporary. They say that after our transplant is over school, families, travel….all that awaits us. I worry about the what ifs….What if we don’t make it to the top of the list? What if we are wasting precious time? What if we never have that future? Our parents refuse to even discuss the possibility that we could die. They don’t want to cross dangerous bridges. I want to share some important thoughts, however. I don’t want to be left hanging at the end wishing I had told people goodbye and let them know what they had meant to me. So I have started keeping a journal of thoughts. That way if something does happen…Well…I am covered. My sister on the other hand doesn’t see things the same way. She spends her day checking the internet for health updates and changes. She reads and always wants to play some type of game. To pass the time she says. (Emotion change) I am tired of passing the time. I don’t want to play this game anymore. I want it to be over, one way or another. This is no way to live. You can’t risk being exposed to illness or germs. So you stay inside. You limit contact with people, to limit contact with bacteria. I am suffocating with limits and loneliness.

We weren’t always this way. We were very active youths who played soccer and loved parties. My sister has the voice and I can draw. Around our 6th grade year we knew something was wrong. Nina couldn’t hold the high notes without running out of breath and neither of us could make it down the soccer field without having to stop for air. My dad thought we might have asthma and mom thought it could be some type of infection. They both felt it was time for complete checkups. None of us were prepared for the verdict. We had the beginning stages of heart failure brought on by conjunctivitis of the heart. No one was exactly sure what the origin was but they were sure that without a transplant we would be dead in less than two years. Being identical twins meant identical diagnosis and identical pain. My parents started the transplant process right away.

Most of the medical facility here thinks our chances are good. They seem to think that in 6 months or so we should be at the top of the list. They remind us that we can be moved up if our condition starts to deteriorate. That is comforting…(sarcastic)

Today something really bad happened. My sister got moved up to the top of the list. Her condition seemed to worsen overnight. She is hooked up to a ventilator and can not even talk to me. Her eyes show they are scared. She asks for a pen and paper. She writes in big bold letters…Not without my sister. I smile and tell her not to be silly. This way she gets to be the guinea pig and go first. The doctors are afraid that the same thing will happen to me too. After all…we