Chapter 3

"Get her into surgery right now. There's still a chance."

The doctor was right in front of me, his voice booming through the room.

Hope sparked in my eyes once more.

Grant had kept telling me I did not have much time left, and I had let myself get swept up in his pessimism.

But from the very start, surgery had been a real shot at survival.

Of course, my parents heard every word.

They crowded around the phone, practically shouting, "Doctor, please, do it right now."

"Doctor, we're begging you, save our daughter."

"Doctor, do the surgery. Money's not a problem. Whatever it takes, save Emily."

The pleas kept coming, one on top of another.

But before the doctor could respond, Grant jumped in, "Mom, Dad, don't believe a word he says. This surgery is a total gamble. Putting Emily on that operating table is signing her death warrant."

My parents looked at each other, totally confused. "What's really going on?"

The doctor raised his voice again. "Mr. Lane, it's not as hopeless as you make it sound. There's a 30% chance this surgery could save her."

"You said it yourself. Only 30%. What's the difference? That might as well be a death sentence," Grant shot back.

"At least surgery gives her a shot. If we sit here and do nothing, we're standing around waiting for her to die," the doctor snapped, practically shaking with anger as he finished, out of breath.

"Grant," my dad suddenly yelled through the video call. "Tell the doctor to get Emily into surgery right now."

"But, Dad," Grant said, hesitating.

"Stop wasting time. Go, now," my dad snapped.

"Yeah, Grant, why are you still dragging your feet? Emily's waiting for you to save her," my mom cried out.

Their voices came at him from both sides.

My parents took turns pleading with him, and then they started making threats.

"Grant, what are you trying to do? Are you going to sit there and let my daughter die slowly?" my dad shouted.

"Grant, do what the doctor says right now. If anything happens to my daughter, we won't let you off the hook," my mom yelled.

The threats kept coming.

But Grant wouldn't budge.

He kept yanking at his hair, shaking his head in pain. "Mom, Dad, please, don't push me. I love Emily more than anything. I can't be the one who signs her death sentence."

"Grant." Mom was so furious she couldn't get another word out, but there was nothing she could do.

Instead, my dad raised his voice. "Doctor, we're her parents. We have the legal right to make decisions for her. Please, get her into surgery right now."

"I'm sorry," the doctor said, looking troubled. "We can't operate without a signed consent form. If Mr. Lane won't sign, our hands are tied."

"Grant," my mom shouted through the video call, her voice full of anger and desperation, like she was about to collapse right there.

My dad's face was twisted with anger, but he forced himself to stay calm and pleaded, "Doctor, I'll take all the blame, whatever happens. You can record this, video it, whatever you need for proof.

"It's life or death right now. Please, do the surgery. I'm begging you, save my daughter."

By the end, he broke down, crying so hard he could barely speak.

The doctor's eyes were full of conflict and compassion. Finally, he took a deep breath, like he was making a desperate, no-turning-back decision. "Alright, I'll do it."

At that moment, a wave of overwhelming relief and hope crashed over me.

I looked at this stranger, my eyes filled with gratitude.

But the nurse next to me suddenly cried out, "Doctor, this is against the rules. You can't do this."

"We put on these scrubs to save people, not to stand around watching them die or dodge responsibility. If anything happens, I'll take the blame," the doctor said firmly, without pausing. "Prep the OR, now."

The nurse paused, clearly torn, but finally turned and rushed off to get things ready.

My parents finally breathed out, their relief obvious, and kept thanking the doctor again and again.

Right when I thought rescue was finally within reach, Grant stood up.

He planted himself in front of the doctor and nurse, his voice icy and resolute, every word cutting through the air.

"Your opinions don't matter.

"I'm her husband. She can't decide for herself, so I'm her primary guardian.

"No one else has the authority to decide for her.

"I refuse to let you operate."