Chapter 5
The smile on Mom's face vanished in an instant. "What's wrong with her now?"
The doctor handed her the report. "Her platelet count is low, and her blood isn't clotting right. She needs more tests. She can't donate until her numbers are back to normal."
Mom glanced at the report and put it back on the table. "She's always been healthy. It's a few sleepless nights, that's all. Give her some medicine and check again tomorrow."
The doctor frowned. "Medicine isn't going to solve this. The donor's safety has to come first."
Mom shot to her feet. "My daughter can't wait."
The doctor looked at me. "She's your daughter too."
The room fell silent.
Dad pulled me out into the hallway, his tone much softer than before. "Helen, doctors tend to exaggerate things. Go home and get some sleep. I'm sure your numbers will be fine tomorrow."
I pulled my hand away. "What if they're not?"
"Then we'll have to find a way. Emily's already had her bone marrow cleared. There's no turning back now," he added.
I got exactly what he was saying.
Emily's body was already prepped for the transplant, and even if I wasn't fit to donate, they'd still push me to do it anyway.
When Grace showed up at the hospital, Mom was busy trying to get me to sign the donor consent form.
Grace snatched the paper right out of her hands. "The tests aren't done yet. What are you signing for?"
Mom rushed forward, making a grab for the paper. "This is our family's business."
Grace stepped in front of me, shielding me from her. "You only remember she's family when you need something from her. Funny how you never said that when you didn't need her."
A crowd had gathered in the hallway.
Dad lowered his voice, telling Mom to stop making a scene.
He turned to me and promised he'd cover all my medical expenses.
He said that if I saved Emily, he'd compensate me for it in the future.
I didn't buy it. But I still agreed to keep getting checked.
I didn't want Emily to die.
She used to show off and sometimes spoke to me with pity, but back then, she was a kid too.
It was Mom and Dad who made every choice for her.
The second round of tests showed I was suffering from long-term malnutrition and was worn out from the competition.
The doctor told me I needed to rest for two weeks.
Mom's first reaction was, "Can we shorten that to three days?"
The doctor refused.
So she started bringing me supplements every day, standing over me until I finished every last drop.
For as long as I could remember, it was the first time she ever cared about what I ate.
But every time I finished eating, she'd ask the same question. "How are you feeling today?"
I knew what she really cared about was when I'd finally be cleared to start the transplant.
On the seventh day of my recovery, I got the official notice from the Young Scholars Medical Program.
They told me I'd landed a full ride.
The program would start over the summer, and if I did well, I could get a head start in the Pre-Med Honors Class.
I showed the notice to Dad.
But he folded it up. "You can't go this summer. Emily will need someone to look after her after the transplant."
"You'll be there to take care of her," I said.
"We don't know anything about medicine."
"Neither do I."
"Isn't that what you're planning to do?" He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Perfect chance to get some real practice with Emily."
I snatched the notice back from him. "I'll go through with the donation, but I'm not giving up on the program."
Mom shot me a cold look. "If anything happens to Emily, you'll never be able to live with yourself."
*****
Two weeks later, my test results were back to normal.
Before I went into the transplant ward, Grace pressed a pendant for luck into my hand.
She told me that no matter what happened, I didn't owe anyone anything.
The donation process was way tougher than I'd imagined.
The meds made my bones ache so bad, I could barely turn over in bed at night.
Mom never stepped into my room.
She camped outside Emily's room, never leaving.
Once the donation was over, I spiked a high fever.
The nurse called Dad three times, but he never answered.
In the end, Grace was the only one who showed up for me.
She held my hand the whole night, never once closing her eyes.
The next morning, when I woke up, there was a note on my bedside table.
Emily had asked the nurse to bring it to me.
There was only one line on it. [Sorry, Helen.]
I put the note away in my drawer.
That afternoon, the doctor brought some good news.
The transplant went smoothly, and Emily wasn't showing any serious signs of rejection.
But at the same time, the program director called me.
My spot in the program had been deliberately revoked by someone.
The signature on the cancellation form was still signed with my name.