Many years ago, when I worked as a volunteer at Stanford
Hospital, I got to know a little girl named Liza who was suffering from
a rare and serious disease. Her only chance of recovery appeared
to be a blood transfusion from her five-year-old brother, who had miraculously
survived the same disease and had developed the antibodies needed to combat
the illness. The doctor explained the situation to her little brother,
and asked the boy if he would be willing to give his blood to his sister.
I saw him hesitate for only a moment before taking
a deep breath and saying, "Yes, I'll do it... if it will save Liza."
As the transfusion progressed, he lay in bed next to
his sister and smiled, as we all did, seeing the color returning to her
cheeks. Then his face grew pale and his smile faded. He looked
up at the doctor and asked with a trembling voice, "Will I start to die
right away?"
Being young, the boy had misunderstood the doctor; he
thought he was going to have to give her all his blood.
