Code Blue
Language: en
The double doors of the operating room were swinging open when the cardiac surgeon paused and glanced back at me. “She hasn’t had anything to eat this morning, right? Routine NPO check.” I was about to shake my head, ready to give the standard confirmation we’d rehearsed for weeks. Then my mother stepped forward, flashing a bright, casual smile. “Actually, she did. I saw her drink a bottle of milk about an hour ago.” The entire hallway went dead silent. My daughter, Maya, has suffered from congenital heart disease since birth. We had spent five agonizing years on the transplant list.…