“When you were in first grade, did you always pay attention in class? Do you even know how much pressure kids are under these days? It’s easy for you to talk as a stay-at-home mom,” Margaret said, looking at me with disdain.
Just as I was about to respond, a wave of dizziness hit me.
When I woke up, I found myself in a hospital bed, the rhythmic beeping of machines echoing around me. There wasn’t a soul by my side.
The doctor informed me that my husband had brought me to the hospital, paid the admission fee, and then found an excuse to leave.
My heart sank. The test results would be out the next day, and I learned I was in the late stages of chronic liver failure, requiring a family member for a donor match.
Hearing this news shattered me. After working hard all these years, I had never done anything wrong. And now life had dealt me such a cruel blow.
Once the results were in, I called my mom, asking when she and Dad could come for a matching test. The doctor said that relatives had the highest compatibility rates.
“Chloe, your dad and I aren’t in great shape ourselves. We’re getting older, and if something happens...”
“Can my brother come instead? He’s young and recovers quickly.”