So last night, I went to bed feeling quite unsettled. I had the dream to prove it:
I was standing outside when two doctors pulled me inside and all of the sudden I was in my bedroom, but a very sterile version of it. I wore a hospital gown and there were chest x-rays all over the room. I was told I needed a new heart, and that they had one, but that I’d have to have the operation at that very second.
Without questioning anything, I agreed. I stayed semi-awake for the operation. I remember seeing my ribs and my skin splayed open and thinking, “I hope this works.”
They weren’t replacing it with a human heart, though. They were using a pig’s heart. I watched them pull my own heart from my chest, put it into a plastic bag and into a tank of formaldehyde, but the veins and arteries were still attached to it. It was still beating. With the pig heart in my chest, new veins and arteries were attached, and momentarily, I had two hearts. They closed me up leaving just a tiny hole for the lines of my first heart.
When I was fully conscious, they told me to breathe deeply, and all at once, they cut the lines to my heart and the pig heart fluttered wildly, pounding against my rib cage to get back into the natural rhythm of things. And then it did.
I felt relieved. The doctor pushed on a couple of places and asked if it hurt. I said no and lifted my hand to feel the stitches that went in a vertical line down my chest, and then looked up at a wall of photos from my past and although scarred, I knew that I was going to live.