Chapter 3 · I Don't Want to Save Emily

Chapter 3

The next morning, I woke up with a fever.

The nurse checked my temperature, and the thermometer showed 103.1°F.

"Oh no, the wound's infected!" the nurse said.

The doctor came to check on me, and when he lifted the bandage, the pain was so sharp I cried out.

The wound was swollen and oozing pus, and it had a strange, nasty smell.

"We need to clean the wound right away. Get the operating room ready now!" the doctor said, his voice serious.

The nurse went to get my parents to sign the consent form, but they weren't at the hospital.

"Where are the parents?" the doctor asked, frowning.

"They said they took Emily home to grab a few things," the nurse said, flipping through the records.

The doctor looked at me. "The child's condition is critical. We can't wait any longer."

They tried calling Mom over and over before she finally picked up.

"Surgery now? We're still out here; it'll take at least two hours to get back," Mom said.

"The wound's badly infected. We can't wait two hours!" the doctor said, his voice urgent.

"Just do whatever you can for now. We'll get there as fast as we can, I promise," Mom said.

The doctor hung up and let out a heavy sigh.

And just like that, I was wheeled into the operating room again.

This was my fourth time.

The anesthesiologist looked at me, sympathy in his eyes. "Hey there, kiddo. We meet again."

I wanted to smile, but I just couldn't.

The surgery felt endless. They cleaned out the wound and removed all the dead tissue.

Half-awake, I heard the doctor say, "We had to remove so much. She'll have a really hard time getting better."

"We couldn't leave it, had to take it out. The infection was just too bad."

"Man, this kid's really been through hell."

"Having parents like hers..."

When I woke up, the pain in my stomach was just numb now.

She knew that wasn't good; when one hurt for so long, even one's nerves stopped feeling anything.

Mom and Dad still hadn't come. The nurse was the only one there, quietly changing my bandages.

"Hang in there, kiddo," the nurse said softly, trying to comfort me.

I stared up at the ceiling, and my mind wandered back to the playground slide at kindergarten.

I thought about the swing, too.

I remembered the little red flowers Miss Taylor used to hand out.

I hadn't been to kindergarten in so long. Did my friends still remember me?

That night, Mom and Dad finally showed up. Mom burst into tears as soon as she walked in. "Lily, I'm so sorry, sweetheart. Mom should've been here sooner."

Dad stood in the doorway, looking upset and uneasy.

"The doctor said your wound got infected. You need to rest and take care of yourself," Mom said, gently stroking my head.

I looked at her, wishing I could ask why she didn't come sooner.

But I didn't even have the strength to ask.

Mom sat beside my bed for a while, when suddenly her phone rang.

"Hello? What's wrong with Emily? Don't cry, don't cry, Mommy will be right there!" Mom said, worry thick in her voice.

She hurried to her feet. "Lily, Emily's not feeling well. I need to go see how she's doing. You just rest, okay?"

Dad followed her out, saying, "Be good, and we'll come see you tomorrow."

But they didn't show up the next day.

Or the day after that.

The nurse said my wound kept getting worse, and my body was starting to reject the transplant.

I didn't understand what "reject" even meant.

All I knew was that the pain kept getting worse, until even breathing felt like a struggle.

On the fifth day, I overheard the doctor and nurse talking just outside my door.

"Her organs are shutting down. I don't think she'll make it through the night."

"Did you get a hold of her family?"

"They said they're coming."

"What a mess."

I tried to open my eyes, but they were just too heavy.

I tried to breathe, but no air would come in.

I wanted to call for Mom, but my throat wouldn't let me make a sound.

And then, I felt myself start to float.

I saw myself lying on the hospital bed, my face ghostly pale, my lips tinged with purple.

I watched as the line on the monitor went flat.

I saw the nurse burst in and start doing chest compressions on me.

I saw the doctor shake his head.

I was dead.

I floated up to the ceiling, watching as the doctor gently pulled a white sheet over my body.

The nurse walked out, tears streaming down her face, and started making a call in the hallway.

I drifted back home.

Mom and Dad were throwing a birthday party for Emily, with four candles stuck in the cake.

"Come on, Emily, make a wish!" Mom said, smiling.

Emily closed her eyes and clasped her hands together. "I wish Lily would come back soon so we can play together."

Mom's smile faltered for a second, and Dad quickly jumped in, "Lily's just resting at the hospital. Once she's better, she'll come back and play with you."

Just then, the phone rang.

"Hello? Who is this?" Mom answered.

"Is this Lily's family? I'm sorry to inform you, but Lily passed away at 3:15 this afternoon. You'll need to come to the hospital," the voice on the phone said.

Chapter 3

The next morning, I woke up with a fever.

The nurse checked my temperature, and the thermometer showed 103.1°F.

"Oh no, the wound's infected!" the nurse said.

The doctor came to check on me, and when he lifted the bandage, the pain was so sharp I cried out.

The wound was swollen and oozing pus, and it had a strange, nasty smell.

"We need to clean the wound right away. Get the operating room ready now!" the doctor said, his voice serious.

The nurse went to get my parents to sign the consent form, but they weren't at the hospital.

"Where are the parents?" the doctor asked, frowning.

"They said they took Emily home to grab a few things," the nurse said, flipping through the records.

The doctor looked at me. "The child's condition is critical. We can't wait any longer."

They tried calling Mom over and over before she finally picked up.

"Surgery now? We're still out here; it'll take at least two hours to get back," Mom said.

"The wound's badly infected. We can't wait two hours!" the doctor said, his voice urgent.

"Just do whatever you can for now. We'll get there as fast as we can, I promise," Mom said.

The doctor hung up and let out a heavy sigh.

And just like that, I was wheeled into the operating room again.

This was my fourth time.

The anesthesiologist looked at me, sympathy in his eyes. "Hey there, kiddo. We meet again."

I wanted to smile, but I just couldn't.

The surgery felt endless. They cleaned out the wound and removed all the dead tissue.

Half-awake, I heard the doctor say, "We had to remove so much. She'll have a really hard time getting better."

"We couldn't leave it, had to take it out. The infection was just too bad."

"Man, this kid's really been through hell."

"Having parents like hers..."

When I woke up, the pain in my stomach was just numb now.

She knew that wasn't good; when one hurt for so long, even one's nerves stopped feeling anything.

Mom and Dad still hadn't come. The nurse was the only one there, quietly changing my bandages.

"Hang in there, kiddo," the nurse said softly, trying to comfort me.

I stared up at the ceiling, and my mind wandered back to the playground slide at kindergarten.

I thought about the swing, too.

I remembered the little red flowers Miss Taylor used to hand out.

I hadn't been to kindergarten in so long. Did my friends still remember me?

That night, Mom and Dad finally showed up. Mom burst into tears as soon as she walked in. "Lily, I'm so sorry, sweetheart. Mom should've been here sooner."

Dad stood in the doorway, looking upset and uneasy.

"The doctor said your wound got infected. You need to rest and take care of yourself," Mom said, gently stroking my head.

I looked at her, wishing I could ask why she didn't come sooner.

But I didn't even have the strength to ask.

Mom sat beside my bed for a while, when suddenly her phone rang.

"Hello? What's wrong with Emily? Don't cry, don't cry, Mommy will be right there!" Mom said, worry thick in her voice.

She hurried to her feet. "Lily, Emily's not feeling well. I need to go see how she's doing. You just rest, okay?"

Dad followed her out, saying, "Be good, and we'll come see you tomorrow."

But they didn't show up the next day.

Or the day after that.

The nurse said my wound kept getting worse, and my body was starting to reject the transplant.

I didn't understand what "reject" even meant.

All I knew was that the pain kept getting worse, until even breathing felt like a struggle.

On the fifth day, I overheard the doctor and nurse talking just outside my door.

"Her organs are shutting down. I don't think she'll make it through the night."

"Did you get a hold of her family?"

"They said they're coming."

"What a mess."

I tried to open my eyes, but they were just too heavy.

I tried to breathe, but no air would come in.

I wanted to call for Mom, but my throat wouldn't let me make a sound.

And then, I felt myself start to float.

I saw myself lying on the hospital bed, my face ghostly pale, my lips tinged with purple.

I watched as the line on the monitor went flat.

I saw the nurse burst in and start doing chest compressions on me.

I saw the doctor shake his head.

I was dead.

I floated up to the ceiling, watching as the doctor gently pulled a white sheet over my body.

The nurse walked out, tears streaming down her face, and started making a call in the hallway.

I drifted back home.

Mom and Dad were throwing a birthday party for Emily, with four candles stuck in the cake.

"Come on, Emily, make a wish!" Mom said, smiling.

Emily closed her eyes and clasped her hands together. "I wish Lily would come back soon so we can play together."

Mom's smile faltered for a second, and Dad quickly jumped in, "Lily's just resting at the hospital. Once she's better, she'll come back and play with you."

Just then, the phone rang.

"Hello? Who is this?" Mom answered.

"Is this Lily's family? I'm sorry to inform you, but Lily passed away at 3:15 this afternoon. You'll need to come to the hospital," the voice on the phone said.