Your Heart to Keep: Holly and Jax by Amanda Mackey Read Free Book Online Page A

raise the first ball but with practice it was my goal to raise all three, together. That would signify that my lungs were working at full capacity.
    I had to do around ten to fifteen repetitions of this exercise every hour, daily to help keep my lungs healthy and to avoid an illness such as pneumonia.
    It was an effort at best with not only the discomfort it took to breathe deeply but also due to weakness.
    Everyone in ICU had been fantastic and was so caring. It was sad to say goodbye to them as I was wheeled to the cardiac floor.
    Still, at least now I’d be able to start moving about more. I needed to try sitting up on my own in order to get some blood circulating to my nether regions which would also help remove any secretions from my lungs. Wiggling my toes and moving my legs had been about all I’d been capable of.
    I had two different drips attached and they were wheeled with me to my new home for the next week or so.
    It seemed like two thirds of my blood had been taken for testing since I’d woken which I’d been assured was normal and essential to check to see how my new heart was coping. Thank goodness they were extracting via the cannula in my hand otherwise I’d be starting to resemble a pin-cushion.
    When I was wheeled into my new room which as luck would have it, I had all to myself, a smell hit me. The scent of a garden in full bloom. I could see a mass of blotchy shapes, all different muted colors. The smell was divine, lifting my spirits immensely.
    “Flowers?” I asked my footmen wheeling me forward. There were two orderlies and a nurse. One orderly at each end of the bed and the nurse pushing the two drips on their stands.
    “They sure are. It looks like someone’s popular!” said one of the men.
    “Who sent all these?” I asked.
    “Your fan club. I wish I had that many friends!”
    “I don’t!” Mentally, I listed all the people I knew and came up short. There were more flowers than friends, including mere acquaintances. 
    When my parents came to visit I’d be sure to get them to read all the cards to me. I would need to thank everyone when I got home. It was such a lovely surprise and humbling that so many people cared.
    The ward bed must have been removed from my new room because I was wheeled into position and the brakes deployed on the one from ICU.
    “Have you been doing your breathing exercises?” asked the nurse.
    “Yes, but I think I’m due to do them again.”
    “Alright. We’ll be stuck to you like glue so make sure you do. If you want out of here in a week, just do them every hour on the hour and you’ll be on the top of our best patient list in no time.”
    I tried laughing but started coughing which in turn made my chest sore. I could feel my stitches pulling so I had to try and cough without actually coughing.
    The nurse came and stood by me. “It’s okay, Sweetness. You won’t pop those stitches. You’ve got them inside and out as well as suture tape and then the bandage. Feel free to cough away. It helps keep your lungs clear.”
    That was easier said than done. She didn’t feel like her chest was going to rip open with the movement.
    After a moment it stopped but she must have taken sympathy on me. “I’ll go and get you a glass of water.”
    Everyone left and all that remained was the fragrant blossom of my indoor garden.
    Thoughts drifted to my heart recipient’s boyfriend. Was he still angry that she became an organ donor? To try and see things from his point of view would mean, what? That he’d been cheated in some way by her decision? Why? What would get a person so angry at another’s gift of giving? Organ donation was the final selfless act a person partook in even after death. It couldn’t be seen as anything other than a blessing. Could it? I was trying to understand an anti-donors mindset. Was I just prejudiced because of my situation?
    And the donors parents? How did they feel? Would they feel angst towards me?
    I needed to know. I needed to