No More Waiting, She Chooses Love



Rushing to the hospital usually takes at least thirty minutes to get any results, but this time it was instant.

The doctor was visibly thrilled, "This is fantastic. We need you to give a blood transfusion to the patient right now. We're talking about at least 400cc, maybe even 600cc. Can you do it?"

"Sure, I can do more if needed," I had to save Conrad, even if his injury wasn't my fault. I couldn't let him bleed out and die.

After changing into sterile clothing, I was ushered into the emergency room.

There, lying on the emergency bed, was Conrad. His face was as pale as a ghost, completely still.

The doctor had mentioned his life was hanging by a thread, and my heart raced with panic. Approaching him, I gently hooked his pinky finger, whispering, "Conrad, you've got to pull through."

He needed to fight, and I needed to give him my blood.

I laid down on the adjacent emergency bed, bracing myself as the sharp needle pierced my skin, my bright red blood flowing through the clear tube into Conrad's body.

I lost track of how much blood was drawn. All I knew was that my blood kept flowing out, and my vision began to blur, a heavy drowsiness taking over.

I recognized this as a symptom of blood loss.

But I couldn't stop; Conrad needed my blood to live.

"We've drawn 600cc already," the assistant doctor informed us.

"But the patient's blood pressure and oxygen levels haven't risen. We need to continue the transfusion," the doctor said, then turned to me.

Before he could ask, I quickly said, "Keep going, I'm fine."

"Any more and you'll pass out from blood loss," the assistant doctor warned me.

"No, I feel okay," I insisted, mustering all the strength I had left. "Really, it's okay. Keep going."

Perhaps it was my determination that convinced them. The assistant doctor checked with the lead surgeon, "How much more do we need?" "At least another 200cc."

The assistant doctor looked at me, concerned, "Are you sure you can handle this?"

"I can," I said with a forced smile.

Seeing my resolve, the assistant

doctor reluctantly agreed, "If you feel

unwell or can't breathe, you yout

tell

us immediately."

"Okay!" I replied, and as the doctors exchanged a glance, my blood continued to flow out.

My eyelids grew heavier, and the urge to sleep became overwhelming.

But I knew I couldn't sleep. If I did, the transfusion would stop, and Conrad wouldn't get the blood he needed.

I bit my lip to stay awake, the pain keeping me conscious.Têxt © NôvelDrama.Org.

I'm not sure how long I held on, but eventually, I heard the doctor say "The patient's blood pressure and oxygen levels are back up. We can stop the transfusion."

Hearing that, I couldn't hold on any longer and closed my eyes.

But in my daze, I caught snippets of the doctors' conversation—

"They must be lovers, to risk their own life for the other."

"Yeah, it's rare to see two people with the same blood type like this It's fortunate; if one is in trouble and

needs blood, the other can save their life.

"If this wasn't planned by them, then it must be fate."

Planned? Conrad and I had been living together for ten years, and I didn't even know he had this blood type. Was it really fate? And if it was, why did fate want us apart?