Halfway through the surgery, a jet of crimson blood spurted out from my chest cavity.
The professor's face immediately turned deathly pale. He nervously swallowed repeatedly, called a nurse and whispered urgently, “Go! Get Director Hawthorn here! Bring the last remaining dose of that hemostatic medicine! It's a matter of life and death! Hurry!”
That hemostatic medicine was a secret formula passed down in our Jameson Family and there was one left in our generation. The medicine could pull back from the brink of death in critical moments.
A few minutes later, James rushed in from the outside with the medicine in his hand.
The professor rushed over to take it from him, but he shoved him aside.
“Professor Donovan, this is a lifesaving medicine! Mabel's ECG readings are all within normal range—is it really necessary to use such potent medication?”
Professor Donovan's voice trembled with urgency. "Director Hawthorn, the readings appear normal only because of the equipment! The young lady just suffered massive hemorrhaging! Hand over the medicine now! If we delay, she won't survive!”
James leaned forward and glanced at me. "If there is a severe hemorrhage, just get blood from the blood bank! You only think about this medicine when trouble hits—what good are you then?”
"I had called the blood bank, but it takes time to get the blood. Young lady can't wait any longer!"
James still did not move.
Professor Donovan did not want to argue anymore. He stepped forward to snatch the medicine from James's hand, but at that moment, a young nurse rushed in and grabbed James's hand.
"Director Hawthorn, something happened! Miss Gilmore cut her wrist because of the unbearable pain …"
Before she could finish, James flung Professor Donovan's hand away and stormed out of the operating room.
Before leaving, he glared at Professor Donovan and barked, “I'm taking this medicine to save Wanda's life. You figure out a solution here. If anything goes wrong, I'll punish you."
Professor Donovan was so furious that he paced back and forth in the operating room.
Outside, a young nurse picked up her phone and held it before him. “Director Hawthorn is so biased! That Gilmore girl only cut her wrist with a nail-sized gash. Why should she get that medicine instead of our young lady?”
I listened to the chaos unfolding in the operating room through a haze. But compared to the physical agony of open-heart surgery, the pain in my heart now felt ten thousand times worse.
Fortunately, Professor Donovan had years of experience and connections in the medical field. In addition, my father had always treated him well during his time at the hospital, so he did everything he could for me. After about ten minutes, the blood from the blood bank finally arrived.
When the surgery neared the end, Professor Donovan held me, who was now awake, with tears in his eyes. "Miss, this is all Uncle Donovan can do for you. Since the surgery was interrupted midway and the blood transfusion was delayed, there will likely be many serious complications after the surgery. You must not get too emotional, or your life will still be in danger."
I watched him breathe a sigh of relief.
“It's okay. At least the heart is replaced. Life will be easier than before...”
Yes, this time around, after being reborn, at least I had survived. After all, the heart I had waited eight long years for was too precious to lose.
All the way from the operating room to the ward, the entire hospital felt eerily silent—there wasn’t a single person around. Patients on every floor called out for the doctor over and over again, but no one answered.
Professor Donovan, who was pushing my bed, shook his head and sighed repeatedly.
