One day left.

My end was near. It was the second night without my mother by my side; she was all out for fundraising. Funny, how was she going to raise $1 550 700 in twenty-four hours?

Moreover, the whole process required careful planning and the heart transplant procedure itself needed six to twelve hours as Dr. McCain explained. Funny, I was on the blink of cursing my dear life or perhaps I would call it a deteriorating life.

Despite all the worries and my mind on the verge of depression, I put on a brave face. So far, I had chewed broccoli, chicken nuggets, and rice. I avoided hot coffee. All foods came from hospital cafeteria meaning I was being charged in addition to the service care. All costs incurred would be paid by my mother depending on the success of her fundraising.

Funny.

I had overslept during daylight, therefore I was all eyes that night. My tongue was in no doubt strong again after it helped me swallow prescribed drugs, I had overestimated to be bigger than my throat. My limbs were back to life, so was my dear breath.

The cardiac nurse emerged first from the doorway, Dr. McCain came in second along with a Latino—her beauty was quite extraordinary—covered in a black hat and dark wrap dress which suggested to me she had grieved the loss of her loved one during daylight.

“That’s him,” muttered Dr. McCain, intended for the Latino.

“He’s so cute, he doesn’t deserve to die,” said the Latino, stealing a look at my face.

I squinted once I discovered their secret discussion about me. I hadn’t expected the Latino to say such pleasant words. Her soft voice was a cherry on top; it suddenly boosted my hopes for survival. I let go of a hard cough and off they went except the cardiac nurse; she checked my ventilator, and her white uniform had a name tag ‘Bettie’.

“Your cough was rare, is your chest heavy?” asked Bettie.

“No, not at all,” I responded, reopening my eyes in a slow motion.

“Fiona wishes you a speedy recovery,” said Bettie.

“Who’s Fiona?” I was confused by this friendly nurse.

“The lady with the doctor,” answered Bettie, adjusting my pillow.

“Good to hear that.” I dimpled.