The doctor told me I needed a transplant, and without it, my chances were getting worse. My mother was tested first and wasn’t a match. Then the doctor asked whether I had any siblings. I almost laughed because the only one I had was the person I had spent my entire life blaming for everything that went wrong after Dad left.
My half-sister came to the hospital the next morning anyway. She didn’t argue, didn’t bring up the horrible things I had said about her, and didn’t even ask for an apology. She simply got tested. When the results came back, she was the closest match in the family and immediately agreed to help.
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