One Last Visit

The frigid winter morning air surrounds Stan Livingston as he enters the Rockford Pediatric Center. The double doors separate, the warmth of the waiting room greets his icy skin a gentle invitation. While this is not his first visit to the Rockford Pediatric Center, it is his first without his son Matt. His eyes flick around the room, flashing from the rushing parents, the faces of the frightened nurses and office staff; does he truly have the strength to seek the justice he desires, the justice he deserves.

Parents hide their children behind them, shielding their children from him. Tears stream down the children’s faces. He hears their little whimpers in the stillness of the waiting room. His eyes darting from the terrified faces to the cold piece of steel in his hand. He cannot remember pulling his pistol out of his coat pocket. But here it is, shaking in his trembling hands. His eyes return to the parents. Each parent guarding their child with their hearts; each willing to give their life to save their child. They offer their hearts to be his target; they offer their hearts to save the heart of their child. He wanted to do the same for his son. He had done the same; he had offered his heart, but his offer had been rejected.

The memories of that frightful day come flooding back. At 2am Mattie woke him up with his harsh coughs. As he stumbled blindly in the dark towards the bathroom, his heart lurched in fear. Every time Mattie became ill, he worried. The doctors had said he would only live to be six months maybe, if they were aggressive with treatment options, and with a little luck they could get a year with him. Three months ago, they celebrated his sixth birthday. Every illness threatened the time he would have with his son. He could see the light from the bathroom creeping out from under the door. He took a deep breath and swung the door open. No breath could prepare him for what he saw, there on the floor sat his beautiful little boy. His blonde hair tussled and knotted from restless sleep. His soft ocean blue eyes glistened with tears from his forceful coughing. His dinosaur pajamas were covered in vomit and blood. He was pale with a hint of grey. Stan scooped Mattie up and rushed for the front door, yelling for his wife to get up.

“Daddy, I’m sorry I woke you up. Please don’t be mad. I just think I’m ready to go home.”

Stan’s heart broke at his son’s sweet words. In his haste he had failed to comfort his little boy.

“Mattie there is no need to apologize. If you’re awake I want to be awake. Where you go, I go, deal?”

“But Daddy, you can’t go where I’m going. You’re not ready to go home.”

“Mattie, we are home, but we need to get you to the hospital. You need to see your good buddy Dr. Alvarez.”

Mattie gave his father a weak smile. He knew his father didn’t understand what he was trying to say. Or maybe he did understand but he didn’t want to accept what he was saying.

“Not this house Daddy, ‘member the song, the one Mommy sings to me, my favorite song. This is just our Temporary Home, not our forever home. I’m ready to go to my forever home. Dr. Alvy can’t help me this time Daddy. Don’t cry Daddy, it’ll be okay, I’m ready. I promise.”

Nancy stood behind her husband listening to her little boy. Tears streamed down her face soaking her pajamas. She knew, in her heart, she would not be bringing her little boy home, not this time. Stan shifted his son’s weight as he placed him in the car.

“Don’t worry Mattie; you’re going to be just fine. And when we get home Mommy and I will paint your room, just like you asked for, Jungle Green, for all your dinosaurs.”

Nancy placed a reassuring hand on his back, she knew her husband wasn’t ready to say goodbye to his little boy. She may be his wife, his first love, but Mattie was his everything. Mattie was his life. Stan sped to the hospital as Nancy sent a text to Dr. Alvarez. Shortly after Matt was born, they had bought a home as close to the hospital as possible. When Mattie was two days old they found Dr. Alvarez.

Dr. Alvarez was the only pediatrician specializing in pediatric cardiology in Rockford, the next closest doctor was in Chicago. Dr. Alvarez was an incredible doctor. He answered all of their questions with impressive clarity and understanding. From day one he provided the Livingston’s with all of his contact information so they could reach him at any time. When they did call, he always responded and never seemed inconvenienced, he was always available. Nancy’s phone chimed. It was a short message from Dr. Alvarez, “Be there soon. I’ll do all I can.” The Livingston’s arrived at the hospital within five minutes; Dr. Alvarez arrived ten minutes later.

Hours later the testing was completed, the results were in, the prognosis was grim, and Stan’s world was about to come crashing down upon him. With dread and sorrow in his eyes, Dr. Alvarez told the Livingston’s there was nothing more he could do for their son, the only thing that could save him was a heart transplant and that it was unlikely a heart would be found in time. He told them to hold their son, to comfort him, that there wasn’t much time left. Nancy hugged Dr. Alvarez and thanked him for all his effort, for giving them the six years they had together. Stan was crushed, shocked, Mattie had overcome so much, he was a fighter, he could beat this. Stan asked to speak with Dr. Alvarez privately. Over the last six years they had spent a lot of time together. Stan knew if he could speak with him, privately, he could convince him to try harder; he had to.

Dr. Alvarez led Stan to an office he used while at the hospital. Stan pleaded his case; he needed his son. Dr. Alvarez explained, again, that there was nothing more he could do Matt’s heart was torn to pieces, shredded, he needed a new heart and even then, it may not be enough. In an act of pure desperation Stan dropped to his knees and made what would be his final attempt to save his son. He begged with every ounce of strength he had, there was only one solution. Matt needed a heart; he had a heart Matt could have.

“Please take my heart, give it to my son. Without him I’ll have no need for it. Please, Salvador, any parent would give their life to save their child, let me give mine to save my boy. What would you do if this was your daughter?”

“I’d hold my little girl and comfort her. I’d be with her every minute until she passed, and then I would hold and comfort my wife, who I know would be falling apart.”

Stan’s vision clears, he sees in those parents’ eyes the same fear he felt on the day his son was stolen from him. He feels his resolve falter; he knows he cannot take a child from another parent. He’ll never cause someone that kind of pain.”

Dr. Alvarez exits exam room A and notices the eerie silence, his pediatric center is never this silent, even after closing. As he walks down the hall towards the reception desk, only to be greeted with the terror in his staff’s faces and the tears streaking down the cheeks of his filing assistant. He steps a little closer and peers through the small window in the door that leads to the waiting room. There stands Mr. Livingston, motionless, expressionless, pointing a gun towards a waiting room full of parents and sick children. The door behind him opens as Nurse Kathy exits exam room C.

“Dr. Alvarez, what’s wrong?” Kathy knows the silence surrounding the waiting room is uncommon and Dr. Alvarez’s face tells her it’s something serious.

Salvador informs Kathy of the situation in the waiting room and instructs her to exit all the patients in the exam rooms through the back of the building. He hands Kathy his cell phone; telling her to call 911. Kathy demands he come with her, but he refuses. He must make sure everyone makes it out of this safely. Stan is not this kind of person; he knows Stan won’t harm anyone especially a child. Salvador Alvarez takes a deep breath and steps into his waiting room.

“Mr. Livingston why don’t we talk back here” Salvador states firmly as he gestures towards the hallway.

Stan blinks in a hazy confusion. He doesn’t want to hurt the people in the waiting room, they were innocent. He walks towards the door and whispers a remorseful apology to the protective parents willing to give their hearts to save their children; he understands that willingness better than most.

As Stan reaches the door, Dr. Alvarez places a comforting hand on Stan’s shoulder leading him through the door. Once the two men were behind the door the office staff and nurses usher the pale parents and their silent children out of the waiting room and down the street where police officers signal for them. The pressure of Dr. Alvarez’s hand on his shoulder reminds Stan of how Dr. Alvarez escorted him back to his son’s room; to the room where he watched his son die.

Stan was destroyed when Dr. Alvarez denied his last request. Dr. Alvarez spouted off about laws, regulations, and codes of ethics. He told Stan how he could not take a life to save another. He told him to let his son die. They walked into the room, Nancy sat on the bed with Matt running her fingers through his tangled blonde hair, weeping silently. Matt liked to keep his hair shaggy. He was never a fan of short hair; it made his ears cold. Mattie weakly asked her to sing it one last time. She pats the bed for Stan to join them and began to sing “Temporary Home” to her baby boy. Before she finished the song, Stan heard his son take his last breath, he felt his son’s grip go from weak to slack; he felt his life slip away. He scooped his boy up one last time and sobbed inconsolably into his son’s shaggy hair. The two of them shook in a rhythmic pattern. Nancy leaned in and rested her head on his shoulder.

The pressure on his shoulder was there again. He could feel the heat of Dr. Alvarez’s hand, the heat stood in sharp contrast to how cold his son had felt in his arms. He stopped walking and turned to face Dr. Alvarez, the man who let his son die.

“This is all your fault” he whispered. “You gave up, you failed him.”

“Stan, there was nothing more we could do. His heart gave out after fighting for so long.”

“No. You could have tried harder. Now, there is nothing more you can do because he is gone. And now, there is nothing more anyone can do for you.”

The gun shots ring out in the silence of the pediatric center. Salvador Alvarez’s body slumps back against the wall, a small black notebook slipping from the pocket of his white coat. Police storm the hallway; the sound of gun shots reverberate off the walls. Through all the noise Stan’s mind clears as Mattie’s sweet soft voice fills his ears.

“You’re ready to leave your Temporary Home Daddy; you’re ready for your Forever Home.”

In a matter of seconds, silence returns to the gun smoke filled hallway, Mr. Livingston lay dead. Dr. Alvarez lay motionless with only shallow breaths escaping his body.