I came to a stand still with my post natal piece and have therefore given it a rest. I know it’ll come to me eventually! I have however begun another piece about a heart transplant, written from the points of view of the mother of the deceased and the transplant patient. I had a few difficulties with the technicalities on this one, knowing nothing about heart transplant personally! It’s a work in progress but here’s the first paragraph. Any comments would be greatly appreciated.

Fran looked down at her sons face. Even among the stark white surroundings, he looked painfully pale. She studied his closed eyelids for any signs of a flicker but they remained lifeless, just like the rest of him. The aching pain inside her chest was fighting to surface. She hadn’t shed a tear as she had sped to the hospital and had remained calm as the doctors had explained what had happened. A car crash had killed her son and she now had to allow his organs to be sent for donation as he had wished. Now, in the early hours of the morning, they had let her view the body. The sight of him had hit her like a train. He lay motionless, attached to tubes that were keeping his organs functioning when the rest of him was gone. She was weighed down by a grief so strong she could barely stand. Her legs gave way underneath her and she found herself gripping the side of the bed for strength. She began to wail, silently at first, then her grief escaped her in loud, racking sobs that ached throughout her body. Nurses offered their words of comfort but she was beyond hearing them. Michael had been her foundation and she could feel herself crumbling to pieces without him. Anger began flashing into her grief the longer she looked at his face. She had warned him countlessly about the dangers of fast driving, why did he have to be so ignorant! Look where it had gotten him, twenty-four and dead. Stone, cold dead. She reeled at how selfish he had been, probably barely giving her a second thought as he had driven carelessly down dark, winding roads. Anger stretched itself across her face as she began pounding the bed that had supported her only moments before. The nurses gently ushered her out of the room in attempts to calm her down. They hushed her and explained that what she was feeling was normal. Normal? There was nothing normal about any of this. There was nothing normal about the death of a twenty-four year old man.

Olivia x


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