Chapter 2: The Waiting Game

The harsh fluorescent lights of Sarah's office cast long shadows across her face as she stared at her computer screen, the transplant list glowing back at her. Her name sat there, stark and surreal, among hundreds of others waiting for a second chance at life. It had been three weeks since her diagnosis, and the reality of her situation was still sinking in.

A soft knock at the door pulled her attention away from the screen. "Come in," she called, quickly minimizing the window.

Michael entered, a paper cup of coffee in each hand. "Thought you could use this," he said, placing one on her desk. "How are you holding up?"

Sarah offered a wan smile. "As well as can be expected, I suppose. Thanks for the coffee."

Michael settled into the chair across from her, his brow furrowed with concern. "Have you told anyone else yet? Your family?"

Sarah's hand instinctively went to the locket around her neck – a gift from Emma years ago. "No," she admitted. "I... I don't know how."

"Sarah," Michael began, his tone gentle but firm, "you can't go through this alone. Your sister deserves to know."

"I know, I know," Sarah sighed, running a hand through her hair. "It's just... Emma and I, we haven't spoken in years. Not really. How do I call her out of the blue and say, 'Hey sis, long time no talk. By the way, I'm dying'?"

Michael leaned forward, his eyes full of compassion. "You're not dying. You're fighting. And you need all the support you can get."

Before Sarah could respond, her pager buzzed. She glanced down at it and stood up abruptly. "It's the ER. They need a consult."

"Sarah," Michael said, rising as well, "promise me you'll think about telling Emma."

She nodded, already halfway out the door. "I will. I promise."

The emergency room was a cacophony of beeping machines and urgent voices. Dr. Patel, the ER attending, waved Sarah over to a bed where a young girl lay, her face pale and drawn.

"This is Lily, 12 years old," Dr. Patel explained. "Complaining of chest pain and shortness of breath. ECG shows some irregularities."

Sarah approached the bed, smiling warmly at the frightened child. "Hi Lily, I'm Dr. Chen. Is it okay if I take a listen to your heart?"

Lily nodded, her wide eyes fixed on Sarah. As Sarah pressed the stethoscope to the girl's chest, a man rushed into the cubicle, his face etched with worry.

"Lily! I'm here, sweetheart," he said, moving to the bedside.

"You must be Lily's father," Sarah said, straightening up. "I'm Dr. Chen, the cardiologist on call."

"Jack Thompson," he replied, shaking her hand. "Is she going to be okay?"

Sarah turned back to Lily, her trained ears picking up the subtle abnormality in the girl's heartbeat. "Lily, I'm hearing a little murmur in your heart. It's nothing to be too worried about right now, but I'd like to run some more tests to make sure everything's okay. Is that alright?"

Lily looked to her father, who nodded encouragingly. "Okay," she said in a small voice.

As Sarah ordered the necessary tests, she couldn't help but feel a connection to this young patient. She remembered all too well the fear of facing a health crisis, the uncertainty of what lay ahead. But unlike Lily, Sarah didn't have a worried parent by her side, ready to face whatever came next.

Hours later, after confirming that Lily's condition was manageable with medication, Sarah found herself in the hospital cafeteria, absently stirring a cup of lukewarm soup. The events of the day had left her drained, both physically and emotionally.

"Mind if I join you?"

Sarah looked up to see Jack Thompson, Lily's father, standing by her table with a tray of food. She gestured to the empty seat across from her. "Please."

"I wanted to thank you," Jack said as he sat down. "For taking such good care of Lily. She's all I have, you know."

Sarah smiled, thinking of the brave little girl upstairs. "She's a fighter. With the right treatment, she should be just fine."

Jack nodded, relief evident in his features. "It's funny," he mused, "how life can change in an instant. This morning, my biggest worry was helping Lily with her science project. And now..."

"Now you're navigating a whole new world of medical terms and treatments," Sarah finished for him. "It can be overwhelming."

"You must see this all the time," Jack said. "How do you do it? Deal with life and death every day?"

Sarah paused, considering her words carefully. "We focus on the lives we can save, the families we can help. It's not always easy, but it's worth it."

As she spoke, Sarah felt a twinge in her chest – a reminder of her own mortality. For a moment, she was tempted to confide in this stranger, to share the burden she'd been carrying. But she held back, unwilling to shatter the image of the competent doctor she knew Jack needed her to be.

"Well," Jack said, standing up, "I should get back to Lily. Thank you again, Dr. Chen. Truly."

As he walked away, Sarah felt a sudden, crushing loneliness. She pulled out her phone, staring at Emma's number on the screen. Her thumb hovered over the call button for a long moment before she put the phone away with a sigh.

Not yet. She wasn't ready.

The next few weeks passed in a blur of patients, tests, and medication adjustments. Sarah threw herself into her work with renewed vigor, determined to help as many people as she could in whatever time she had left. But the toll of her condition was becoming harder to hide.

One afternoon, as she was reviewing a patient's file, a wave of dizziness hit her hard. She gripped the edge of the nurses' station, knuckles white, as she waited for it to pass.

"Dr. Chen?" Maggie's voice cut through the fog. "Are you alright?"

Sarah blinked, realizing she was now seated in a chair, Maggie's concerned face swimming into focus. "I'm fine," she said automatically. "Just got a little lightheaded."

Maggie's frown deepened. "This isn't the first time I've seen this happen. Maybe you should take a break, let someone else cover your patients for a bit."

"No," Sarah said firmly, standing up perhaps a bit too quickly. "I'm okay. Really."

As she walked away, Sarah could feel Maggie's worried gaze on her back. She knew she was pushing herself too hard, but the alternative – sitting idle, waiting for a heart that might never come – was unthinkable.

Later that evening, as Sarah was preparing to leave for the day, her phone buzzed with a text from Michael: "Any update on telling Emma?"

Sarah stared at the message, guilt gnawing at her insides. She knew Michael was right, that she needed to reach out to her sister. But every time she thought about making that call, fear paralyzed her.

What if Emma didn't care? What if she did, and Sarah had to watch her sister go through the pain of losing her all over again?

With a heavy sigh, Sarah typed out a reply: "Not yet. Soon."

As she hit send, Sarah realized she was running out of "soons." Time, once a luxury she took for granted, was now slipping through her fingers like sand. How much longer could she keep up this charade of normalcy?

The answer, she feared, would come all too soon.