Author's Note: Although this is a work fiction in the end, it is based on real life events.
Mr. Bailey, she has a 95% chance of needing a liver transplant, and only a 2% chance of getting one.
Being a numbers guy he tried to calculate the odds of his daughter surviving.
He whispered to himself.
“... Ok… 95 percent chance of needing one… but then only a 2% chance of getting one… so her chance of survival is… 6.9%.... “
From the moment he heard those words from the gastroenterologist, he knew his life would never be the same, and his daughter may only survive for a few days at the most.
It was the type of life or death moment you see depicted only in movies, but rarely happening to real people like them. But, this was no movie.
This was his reality in three dimensions, with his only child about to die.
He and the doctors discussed the situation with her and she was focussed and calm. At the first moment she was alone with him she jumped into arms, started crying uncontrollably, and begged him.
“Dad, dad, dad… please don’t let me die.. Please, if anyone can save me it’s you.”
He then told her that several weeks ago he had gotten himself checked and he could not be a donor for her. He told her that he would have instructed the doctors to take all of his liver if necessary and leave him on the operating table if it meant saving her life.
She was an only child and her mother was no longer alive, so there were no more immediate family donor options. She would have to get on the transplant list.
The waiting times for a liver transplant were many months, if not years, but a recipient could be kept alive today while waiting. The only problem was that his daughter’s liver problem was sudden, acute, and advancing quickly, so the chances of her getting one were almost nil, hence the 2% figure the doctor had just told him.
They entered the liver transplant unit that day, and he continually prayed that she would remain in that 5% window of not needing a transplant, but two days later her liver took a turn for the worse.
Her skin had a yellowish tint for a few weeks now and the whites of her eyes were speckled with yellow, from the jaundice. But on the morning of the third day in the hospital, as the first rays of the rising sun lit up her face, he noticed how much more severe the jaundice had progressed overnight. She was still asleep and he sat in the folding chair next to his only child’s hospital deathbed, and he wept the deepest silent tears any father has ever cried. He made sure not to wake her. All the while he held her hand in his, and he watched her peacefully sleeping.
The night before she had told him how much she loved him and how lucky she had been to have him as a father. He could see the resignation in her eyes and hear it in her voice. For the first time through this ordeal his daughter knew that she was going to die. He had been speechless and she just closed her eyes and fell asleep.
He had sat in that folding chair holding her hand all night without a moment of sleep. He wanted to remember every last moment of her life. Just as when she was a baby in a crib sleeping, he watched her blanket slowly rise and fall with her peaceful respirations. Countless times at night he saw her adjust her sleeping position just like when she was a baby.
The moment she was born, a yet unknown part of his heart opened for the first time. Before that moment he didn’t know this true heart existed. That part of his heart was as immense and ever expanding as the universe, and it burned brighter than a millions supernovas, all because a five pound crying pink bundle had been placed in his arms 20 years ago.
He watched his dying daughter sleeping and he felt that same feeling he had the first moment he had held her at birth, except now a true love for the daughter and person she had become was added to it.
He sat there and sobbed for himself, as his only reason for living would die with her.
She slowly awoke and was suddenly frantic… her hands feeling her body up and down, eyes darting in every direction…
“Am I dead!? Am I dead!? DAAADDD! DAAADDD!”
He was instantly cradling her and whispering softly that she was fine. It seemed to take hours to calm her down. She was so drained that she couldn’t sit up by herself.
The doctor came to the door and motioned him over.
“At this point, things escalate quickly. I want you to be prepared. Her body is in such a weakened condition that other organs may start failing and she will expire very quickly. We will do all we can to make her as comfortable as possible.”
He returned to her side and she could barely keep her eyes open. She asked him to do the funny and silly things he used to do when she was very young to make her laugh. So he wrapped a small towel around his head like a kerchief and pretended to be an old lady recalling entering NY Harbor as a young girl coming to America. He put on that thick Eastern European accent that always made her laugh until her sides hurt.
“I reeememba theee firs time I saw thee Lady in Harba! Oh My Lord!, Oh my goodness gracious!”
She was instantly laughing and her eyes started to tear. Nothing was funnier than her father with a towel on his head pretending to be a 90 year old immigrant. That one always got her rolling on the floor.
He felt, as many parents do in these situations, that he was a complete failure that he could not save his child’s life. He was this girl’s father and all girls deserve Superman for their dad: Unafraid, all knowing, indestructible and able to confront and kill anything that bothers their little girl.
But he was none of those things and he was helpless.
Up until last night her faith in his ability to fix everything was absolute. But before she fell asleep he saw her painfully accept the reality of his humanity, and that he was simply a man with no S on his chest and no red cape.
His daughter’s realization of her imminent death, as they silently looked at each other, crushed part of his soul that he knew could not be recovered.
His fatherly failure was now complete.
He watched the myriad of numbers on the myriad of monitors that surrounded her. The doctor’s predictions were coming true.
Her pulse ox was dropping, and her heart rate was increasing. He could hear her breathing getting labored and some beads of sweat were forming on her brow. She squeezed his hand as hard as she could and he got out of his folding chair and cradled her like a baby. He knew the end was very near and so he rocked her and sang the lullabyes he used to sing her to sleep with when she was just born.
A nurse came in and increased her morphine drip.
He could feel her body relax and knew he was doing all he could to make her last moments as painless, peaceful and safe as he could.
She felt perfectly at peace, with no fear of death, cradled in her father’s arms, but she didn’t have the breath or strength to tell him.
He rocked her and sang to her for a long time with his eyes closed.
Every memory of every moment he had with her was running through his mind and he started to pray for her soul. He was well past begging God for a miracle. He prayed for God to take care of his little girl until he joined her when he passed on.
He prayed to God to have her mother be waiting with open arms at the pearly gates to take his place cradling her.
There was suddenly total silence. All the machine beeps and alarms were gone.
Time had stopped.
He was floating in a cloud, far from any mortal realm.
He was confused, but more calm and peaceful than he had ever been.
God's voice suddenly enveloped him.
“My son, just nod if you want to take her place."
He nodded.
The room filled with the machine beeps and alarms again.
His daughter was cradling him and rocking him and singing the same lullabies he used to sing to her when she was just born.
He could barely keep his eyes open.
She felt, as many children do in these situations, that she was a complete failure that she could not save her father’s life.
She was crying and saying..
“I am so sorry dad, I’m so sorry…”
With his last remaining human strength he softly grabbed her cheeks and looked her deep in her eyes and said.
“You are perfect. You are the miracle that God gave me. I was born the moment you were. Listen to me and trust me. This is exactly how God intended me to die and I welcome it. Just know everything I have done since you were born was to take care of you. Every breath, every thought, every decision was to make sure you were safe and happy.
Including, and especially this.
You gave me my life’s true purpose and meaning. I love you.”
Then multiple organs, including his diseased liver and heart, simultaneously failed and he died in his daughter's arms.
His wife embraced him, eyes closed, and said:
"I missed my Superman."
