Savannah
I sat in the waiting area, my spine as stiff as the hard plastic chair beneath me. The clock on the wall ticked, each click a hammer blow against my sanity.
Tick. Tock. A reminder that I had zero control over what was happening behind those closed operating room doors.
Every passing minute stretched, pulling my anxiety tighter and tighter. It had been over three hours,but it felt way longer.
The doctor had estimated six to eight hours for the heart transplant. I tried to breathe, tried to stay positive.
What if it didn’t work?
What if Jermaine’s body rejected the new heart?
I hadn’t allowed myself to truly entertain these terrifying ‘what ifs’ before. I couldn’t afford to. But now, in the silence of the waiting room, they turned my stomach into a cold knot.
What if I lo
