Chapter 14 - Jonah gets worse
Three weeks after leaving Mercer House, Blythe’s laboratory values began improving.
Not dramatically.
Enough.
Jonah’s did not.
His liver had sustained more damage.
He developed complications that required intensive monitoring.
Transplant evaluation began.
No one told me removing him from exposure would reverse months of injury like turning off a switch.
I hated them for it.
One morning Jonah asked:
“Am I dying?”
I said:
“No.”
Immediately.
Instinct.
He looked at me.
“Everyone talks weird.”
I sat closer.
“Okay.”
Wrong answer first.
Try again.
“You are very sick.”
“I know.”
“Doctors are working to help your liver recover.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“You may need a new liver.”
“From who?”
“We don’t know.”
He thought.
Then:
“Can I have yours?”
My throat closed.
“If it matches and doctors say I can help, I will.”
His transplant doctor later explained that it would not be handled by paternal determination in a child’s bedroom.
Evaluation.
Compatibility.
Best medical option.
Systems.
Again.
My money could not simply buy him an organ.
Thank God.
It could buy convenience around the edges.
Flights.
Hotels.
Private rooms.
It could not buy medical ethics.
Jonah eventually stabilized enough that immediate transplant was deferred.
Weeks, not hours.
Supportive treatment.
Close observation.
Gradual improvement.
When his bilirubin finally dropped meaningfully, I cried in an elevator where no one could see.
Elena saw anyway when the doors opened.
She said:
“Good?”
I nodded.
She hugged me.
Then immediately stepped back.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t.”
It was the first time we touched.
Nothing romantic.
May you like
Two exhausted people temporarily relieved that a child might live.
That was enough.
