If You Only Had 72 Hours to Live
The day I decided to donate my body to science, my family gathered around my adopted sister, Hailey, celebrating her acceptance into a cutting-edge experimental treatment program.
The one with brain cancer was supposed to be me. But Hailey used my husband Zane's position at the hospital to swap her healthy medical records with my terminal diagnosis, stealing the one chance I had to survive.
And the worst part? Everyone cheered her on.
The pain became too much. I fought to stay present, only to overhear the nurses whispering, "It's a good thing Dr. Zane secured that spot for Hailey. They said she only had three days left."
So, in the last 72 hours of my life, I quietly let go of everythi