“She went in search of food. Told me to tell you,” some older woman said. She’d been here all day too, and I wondered if whoever she was waiting for was okay.
I nodded and thanked her.
When I got to the cafeteria, I smiled when I saw Claire. She was eating a sandwich and reading something on her phone. This woman had been incredibly strong today. Even now, with only a few inches of hair, which I knew was because she’d only just been cancer-free for short a while, she powered through this like a champion. Dr. Andrews told me not to eat anything in case I needed the surgery quickly. It was past dinnertime, but I didn’t care about hunger right now.
“What are you reading?” I asked her as I sat down.
“The Bible,” she said softly and patted the seat next to her.
I scooted over so that I could see the verse.
“I know you’re new to this, but when we ask God for something, it’s best to praise Him for it before it’s even manifested. As a show of faith that we expect it,” she said. “So I’m doing that.”
I looked down at the verse.
“I will give thanks to you, Lord, with all my heart; I will tell of all your wonderful deeds. I will be glad and rejoice in you; I will sing the praises of your name, O Most High.” Psalm 9:1-2
“I like that,” I told her before silently thanking God for making me a perfect match for Hannah.
“So, how did you suddenly become a believer?” she asked, raising one eyebrow.
I smiled, feeling lighter than I had in years, despite the horrible situation we were in.
“Well, it took three songs,” I said and then told her the story of Pete and what had happened in my car.
She grasped the sides of my face, cupping it in her hands. “God leaves the ninety-nine sheep to go after the one lost one.” She touched my nose. “That’s you.”
“Hey, that’s what Hannah texted me right before…” I trailed off.
She nodded. “Hannah knew. You’re a found sheep now. Welcome to the herd, Jack. Life won’t be perfect, but it’s better with God.”
I squeezed her hand, grateful for her encouragement. Then my gaze flicked to the doorway where Dr. Andrews had just run in, holding a stack of papers. My heart seized in my chest as he ran over and slammed them on the table.
“Jack, you’re a perfect match for Hannah. She won’t even need anti-rejection meds.”
Claire burst into tears beside me, and I couldn’t help the huge grin that graced my face.
Thank You, God. Thank You, thank You, thank You.
“But we do have a problem,” he said, flicking his gaze around the room to a couple sitting near us.
“What is it?” Claire’s hand slipped into mine and squeezed.
Dr. Andrews sat down at the table and leaned in, lowering his voice. “Jack, I’m guessing you didn’t know that you have something called Von Willebrand Disease, also known as VWD. It’s a genetic clotting disorder which makes you very high risk for a surgery like this. You could bleed out.”
“What?” I leaned in to make sure I heard him properly.
A clotting disorder?
Dr. Andrews nodded. “Most people can go their whole life without knowing they have it until they get surgery or an injury. Do you bruise easily? Have trouble clotting?” He asked.
I nodded, but I was barely listening.
Clotting disorder. Genetic. Can go your whole life without knowing.
“Could my mother have had it?” I asked suddenly as the wheels in my head started to turn.
The paramedics on the scene had said that our accident shouldn’t have been fatal. I hadn’t been speeding. My mother had hit her head and sustained a laceration, but she’d bled out way too fast for what the paramedics thought was normal. I had been too devastated to draw any conclusions from that, but now…
