I’ve been asked what has been a memorable moment in my transplant experience, and, for the sake of an honest answer, I must disclose one of my secret powers: The Ability to Stop Time. Since a very early age, when an event deeply moves me, an inner voice has prompted me to stop the time and captivate that happening in my mind. On several occasions, I have gathered memories in such an intense way that they are rather encapsulations of a moment with its respective images, textures, smells, tastes and feelings. Surprisingly, over the years, each sensation has not faded and can be recreated at my command; all that guarantees an imperishable and detailed memory.
The first time I heard this inner voice was around 1:00 am on July 21st.,1969. I was 5 years old. Briefly before midnight, we were three families crowding a living room; all seating around a TV set. The children had been allowed to stay up so late because we were watching the live transmission of the first Moon landing. It was a special night. At some point of the program, the room stopped breathing for a long time until, finally, Armstrong stepped on the Moon and everyone came back to life, laughing, hugging and tearing. After a short while, all the kids in the neighborhood went outside to look at the Moon, and celebrate our midnight free-ranging. In the midst of the contagious hilarity, I heard my inner voice: “You must remember. This is important.” I stop running and everything else too. I look at the Moon. Its whiteness was cold and sharp as the incessant wind of the mountains. It was immensely far away, but over the Andes hanged closely at hand. I couldn’t see the astronauts nor could they see me, but somehow the cold and the light were connecting us.
Over the years, I had heard the voice again, and I had always obeyed it. For example, I can still touch the cottony feet of my baby brother dancing in the air while my mother reads “The Little Prince” to my sister and me under the acidic green shade of the poplars. I also perfectly remember the first time, six years apart, I held each of my just-born daughters, I discovered their distinctive smells and I was overjoyed by their beauty. Needless to say, there were times when the voice forced me to remember for matters of truth and justice, but this is a Pandora’s box that I’m not ready to open yet.
The voice spoke the afternoon of September 13 of 2022. On my bed, I had placed the familiar leather weekender, some clothes and common toiletries. However, this time I wasn’t going to my daughter’s, I was going to a transplant journey. My husband appeared at the bedroom entrance.
“Are you sure that you feel ok?” He asked. I reassured him that I was strong enough to pack.
However, five minutes later he was back. “What about some yogurt? You should try to eat something.” He said.
“I’m not hungry right now, and I want to finish this. I’ll eat in thirty minutes. Promise.” I replied.
“We have ice cream… “ The man was relentless, but he pretended not to be pushy. Oh, my sweet, sweet husband…
“I need to do this, please.” I implored. If I had the words, I probably would have said that I needed to take control of something.
“You know you don’t have to pack everything, right? I’lll come home and get you whatever you need.” Of course, I knew it. We lived twenty minutes away from the hospital.
“Thank goodness.” I snapped at him, and a dark hole started growing in my stomach.
Then, I confessed: “Because I cannot read lists anymore, and I’m not sure what I’d already packed and what not.”
“Then don’t do it.” He softly replayed, turning me, so I sat on the edge of the bed, looking at him squatting in front of me so our eyes could meet.
“Also…” he’s trying to cheer me up, “I can go to the stores and buy whatever you need: pearls, diamonds, lacy thongs, …”
And then, the hole in my stomach swallowed everything in me but my voice: “I’m not going. I want to be home with you. I don’t want to do this.” I declared to the world.
Silence. Fast breathing. More silence.
Then, he whispered: “I don’t want you to do this either” “But we don’t have a choice, so we must do it.”
That’s when I heard the voice. “You must remember this. This is important.”
I vividly surrendered to the moment while he tightly embraced me with careful hands, completely harboring my frail body. Thirsty for life and certainty, I forever trapped his balmy smell, the intimate pleasure of his touch and the dampness of our tears between our shared skins.
After a few minutes or an eternity, we packed together some of the things in the list and my bare necessities: photos of my family, a portable fan and my stuffed monkey named Chicago.
And I ate something, yes, yes, a little bit, ok? Just a little bit…
