When I woke up, there were five men wearing green scrubs. They all smiled at me as if they were watching their success. Beeping sounds of intensive care unit reached my ears while the smells of burning hair and blood greeted my nose. Fresh air itched my eyes as nerves in my eyes sent signals to my brain about the length of time my eyes had been shut—maybe some months or so, I estimated. No wonder I was overtired.

I regained my sense of touch and the first part of my body I touched was my chin because a beard had grown there. I got curious. Secondly, I touched my joystick that had a thin tube connected to it (the tube was draining my bladder). Thirdly, I touched down my chest (inside a white poly cloth) yet I sensed thick stitches, and it was the moment I realized that they had actually removed my heart. I wasn’t happy at all.

I cleared my sore throat. “Did you just take out my heart?”

A familiar man bowed his head and said: “Yes, perfectly. We replaced your dead heart with a healthy one last week.”

His voice ended with a habitual sigh; he was Dr. McCain with glasses on.

I didn’t like to have my heart replaced, but anyway I had given them my consent prior to my treatment. I was taking in fresh air noiselessly, however, my soul kept rejecting my new heart.

And all of a sudden, a beautiful blonde came in and my new heart beat for her, implying I had memories with her. Love memories. Those memories hinted that she was my ex-lover, but I had no idea why. She was Bettie in green scrubs too carrying a human heart enclosed in a transparent plastic bag. The heart looked bloody and frozen in my view. I knew it was my old heart.

I admired Bettie as I waited anxiously to understand words that were about to escape from her pink mouth.

“Take a look at your old heart,” said Bettie as she showed it to me.

My limbs were strong, I took over my old heart and looked at it like a shopper looking at a package of chicken. I felt sorry for my old heart, but I also felt that it deserved to be cut off from me, since it no longer served its purpose. I gave it back to Bettie.

“We all love you, and we’re glad to see you strong again,” said Bettie cheerfully, and walked away with my old heart.

“I love you too and I want you back in my life.” My desperation for her transpired out of nowhere.

The entire medical staff gazed at me in wonder, except Bettie—she twisted and turned her hips, out of the room.