Not All Who Wander Are Lost

Chapter 1

Don't move, Chester. Don't move a single freaking muscle!, I thought as I sat perfectly still on the paper-wrapped exam table. I knew that my slightest move would make the paper beneath my ass crinkle as loud as a car horn. Over the years, I had created a little game to entertain myself while I waited. I would sit as still as possible and then, just before the doctor would come in, I would lift myself up and plop all my body weight back down onto the paper and make the loudest crinkle known to man. My older brother, Frank, had caught onto my little game after a few appointments. He would try to make me lose the game by pulling stupid ass faces and telling me jokes that would make me laugh and crinkle the paper. Of course, being my five year old self at the time, I could not control my laughter and lost the game. But now, being eighteen years of age, I could control my urges of giggling and chuckling. Until this particular day.

I sat on the blue and grey exam table, without moving a muscle for almost five minutes. Frank, sitting in one of the cushioned chairs to the side, was leaning toward me, intensely staring me down. I looked into his eyes with complete and utter seriousness. We could hear the doctor just outside the door, conversing with a nurse. Frank took a deep breath.

"Why did Sally fall off of the swings?" Frank asked me quietly.

Stumped on the answer, I replied, "Why?"

"Because she had no arms. Knock, knock."

"Who's there?" I asked, completely confused.

Frank paused and allowed a small smirk to spread across his face. He then answered. "Not Sally."

I held my breath and tried so hard not to lose the game and my bladder. I felt my head get dizzy and then gave up. I let out an enormous burst of laughter and the paper crinkled and cracked like there was no tomorrow. Tears began to well in my eyes. I began to snort from laughing so hard which made me laugh even harder. Frank was almost sliding out of his chair from laughing at my uproar of giggles and cries of utter delight and happiness. Suddenly, the door opened and Frank and I gathered our shit together almost immediately.

"Good afternoon, Harding boys. Wonderful day today, correct?" Dr. Jared Peters greeted us. Dr. Peters had been my doctor for as long as I can remember. He had a voice like Morgan Freeman's, which was awesome, and a welcoming presence. Dr. Peters was one of the coolest old men I have ever met. He served as an apprentice to his father, who was also a doctor, in World War II and later on became one of the best doctors in his field. To this day, he is an expert in all heart conditions, diseases, and treatments. And for that reason, I needed him.

"Now, Chester. How have you been feeling? Is PE at school giving you a rough time? Any shortness of breath or muscle aches? Have you been avoiding strenuous exercise? Have you been eating healthy?" Dr. Peters said as he paged through my medical file.

"I'm feeling fine, sir. And no, PE is alright. They cut me down on game and weight-lifting time and give me special exercises. Once in a while I'll get muscle aches but usually because of yoga in class. You know I'm not flexible. And yes, I've been avoiding strenuous exercise and eating healthy. To be honest, I've grown a liking to apples. I used to loathe them but they're pretty damn tasty now." I explained with a chuckle here and there.

"Good, good. Now, I think it's time to lay down the hard facts to you because I think you are mature enough. I wanted to delay my telling of this but I don't think I can any longer." Dr. Peters said as he pulled a chair close to the exam table. I looked over at Frank. He had a worried look in his eye, like he knew what Dr. Peters was about to say.

"So, I have not told you this yet but I have told Frank and your father and mother a long while ago. Probably about when you were five years old. We wanted to wait until we thought you were mature enough. And you are mature enough now.

"As you already know, you have been struggling and battling through life with Eisenmenger Syndrome, an extremely rare heart disease, since birth. This disease causes a hole in the heart which prevents blood and oxygen to circulate correctly to the rest of the body. This disease also damages blood vessels permanently. Eisenmenger Syndrome prevents a very active life style and makes living a normal life quite difficult. You knew all of that already though. But what you most likely did not know is the life expectancy of this disease. We did not tell you for so long because we wanted you to live your childhood years without having to worry about when you are going to pass. But now, we believe you should know. But I want you to keep in mind that you have an unusually strong heart for having this disease. And-"

"Doc. Just tell me already." I said quietly.

Dr. Peters took a deep breath and said, "Since there is no known treatment or cure to Eisenmenger Syndrome, most patients who have it live only to their twenties or thirties. But Chester, you're only eighteen. You still have years to live. Trust me. Twenties or thirties are quite a large range. Who knows, maybe you could even live until you are 39 years old! Like I said, you have an unusually strong heart for having this disease, which is great. My estimate is that you'll live past the age limit because of your strong heart. As long as you keep doing what you are doing, you'll be just fine. Okay?"

I nodded, unable to speak. Dr. Peters patted me on the shoulder and left the room. Frank and I sat there in silence.

"So you and dad knew all along, huh?" I asked as I lifted my head toward Frank.

He nodded, "Yeah. We wanted to tell you but Dr. Peters, dad, and I all agreed to wait. Until now. How are you feeling?"

I swallowed and said, "I'm kinda nauseous but I'll be fine."

Frank stood up and nodded. He put his hand on my shoulder and lead me out of the hospital.

In the car, I took out my phone and plugged in my earbuds. They were a crappy five dollar pair but they did their job. I scrolled through my playlist and selected "Me and Bobby McGee," my mother's favorite. I needed her right now. I really did. I think we all did. She passed away from breast cancer back when I was twelve and Frank was twenty-one. Frank took it really hard and began to drink. A lot. But since then, he's been to rehab and stopped for good. When my mom died, I took a liking to piano. Something about it made me forget about the pain of my mother's passing. Whether it was the feeling of my fingers gently gliding across the smooth keys or the way the sound took me to a calm, safe, and warm world. Just something about it filled the hole that my mother left in my soul after her death. It filled the hole with joy and peace. Since then, I could not stop playing.

As I listened to Janis Joplin's raspy voice sing the words of the song, my phone vibrated in my hand. I lifted it to see who had texted me. It was my best friend, Brynn Masterson. We had met back in kindergarten and since then, became inseparable. She understood me. More than my dad or Frank. More than anyone. Maybe that's why I had such feelings for her. I had ever since eighth grade. I just couldn't help it. She was beautiful, with her long brown hair and calming brown eyes which have always been shielded by the cutest, black and brown swirl glasses. And I could never, ever forget her adorable dimples. And she was super intelligent. There was no academic she did not excel at. By junior year, she was already accepted into Harvard, Yale, and Princeton. And she was freaking hilarious. She was just perfect. Everything I could ever need and want. I just didn't want to ruin our strong friendship by telling her I loved her. There was such meaning in those three small words. But yet, so much risk. I just couldn't do that to our friendship. I couldn't lose my light and guide.

I opened her text and it read,

"How'd your appointment go?"

I paused for a second and thought about what I would say. Then, I wrote,

"Would you mind coming over? It's too important to talk about over text."

Brynn read the text and a few moments passed without a single syllable. Then, she texted back,

"No problem, Chet. Give me about ten minutes to finish up some homework and I'll be over. Okay?"

I took a deep breath and texted back "Okay" as Miss. Joplin finished her wonderful song.