Dead Tomorrow

Jane, her best friend, and two other girlfriends, as well.
    She heard footfalls behind her. Soft and squeaky on the linoleum. Then a female voice she did not recognize.
    ‘Mrs Cooper?’
    She turned and saw a pleasant-looking woman who was holding a clipboard loaded with forms. In her late thirties, the woman had long, light brown hair pulled back into a bun, a brown and cream striped top, black trousers and soft black shoes. On her chest was pinned a badge which read, Specialist Nurse .
    ‘I’m Chris Jackson,’ she said, then smiled sympathetically. ‘How are you?’
    Susan shrugged and gave a wan smile. ‘Not great, if you want to know the truth.’
    There was a brief moment of hesitation and Susan felt awkward, sensing something bad was coming.
    ‘Couldwe have a chat for a few minutes, Mrs Cooper?’ the nurse asked. ‘If I’m not interrupting anything, that is.’
    ‘Yes, fine.’
    ‘Perhaps we could go into the quiet room. Can I get you a cup of tea?’
    ‘Thank you.’
    ‘How do you take it?’
    ‘Milk, no sugar.’
    A few minutes later Susan was seated on a green chair with wooden arms in the windowless quiet room. There was a corner table with what looked like a bedside table lamp with a fringed shade on it. A small mirror was mounted on one wall, a print of a dreary landscape on another, and there was a tiny fan, switched off. The atmosphere was oppressive.
    Chris Jackson returned with two cups of tea and sat opposite her. She smiled, pleasantly but awkwardly.
    ‘May I call you Susan?’
    She nodded.
    ‘I’m afraid, Susan, it’s not looking good.’ She stirred her tea. ‘We’ve done everything we can for your husband. Because of who he is, and the affection the staff have for him, everyone has put in even more effort than normal. But in five days he has not responded, and I’m afraid there has been a development this morning.’
    ‘What’s that?’
    ‘The frequent check of his pupils reveals that there’s been a change in the brain consistent with raised pressure.’
    ‘His pupils have blown, right?’ Susan said.
    Chris Jackson gave a grim smile. ‘Yes, of course. With your background, you’d understand.’
    ‘And I understand the severity of his brain damage. How much longer do you–do you think–you know…’ She started choking on the words. ‘That he’ll be with us?’
    ‘There are morerepeat tests to be done, but it’s looking conclusive. Is there anyone you would like to call? Any other family members you would like to be here, to say goodbye to him, and to give you support?’
    Susan put her cup and saucer down, dug in her handbag for a tissue, then dabbed her eyes and nodded.
    ‘His brother–he’s on his way down from London anyway–he should be here soon. I–I—’ She shook her head, sniffed and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself while fighting back tears. ‘How sure are you?’
    ‘There was a rise in his blood pressure to 220 over 110. Then it plunged to 90 over 40. Do you understand the significance of that?’
    ‘Yes.’ Susan nodded, her eyes becoming a damburst of tears. ‘Nat has effectively died. Right?’
    ‘I’m afraid so,’ said Chris Jackson very quietly.
    Susan nodded, pressing the tissue hard against each eye in turn. The other woman waited patiently. After a few minutes, Susan sipped some tea.
    ‘Look,’ Chris Jackson said. ‘There is something I’m going to talk to you about now. Because your husband is in here, and his body is intact, to a large extent, you have the option of donating his vital organs to help save the lives of others.’
    She paused, waiting for a reaction.
    Susan stared silently down into her cup.
    ‘A lot of people get comfort from this. It means that the death of their loved one can at least help to save the lives of others. It would mean that something positive comes out of Nat’s death.’
    ‘I’m pregnant,’ she said. ‘I’m carrying his child. He’s not going to see it now, is he?’
    ‘But at least something of him will live on in this child.’
    Susan staredat her tea again. It felt as if there was a band of steel tightening around her gullet.
    ‘How–I mean, if I–he–donated organs, would he be–you know–disfigured?’
    ‘He would receive the same medical care as if he was a living patient. He wouldn’t be disfigured, no. There would be just one incision down his chest.’
    After a long silence, Susan said, ‘I know Nat always supported the concept of organ