Life is in the Blood
My stomach began to feel slightly weak at the sight of the operating table where Luja lay. I could not see her face, only her body resting in a pool of her own blood. There was so much. When she came to the hospital earlier that day, she was admitted to the OB ward and instructed to undress and lie on the table. Her skirt was saturated with dark blood, and it trickled down her legs. She continued to bleed for the next several hours until she was called into the operating room for an emergency C-section. Now here she was, losing even more blood. As the minutes passed slowly, I could hold it in no longer. I wouldn’t normally do this, but I interrupted the surgeon. “Will she need blood?” Through his mask, I heard a muffled, “Yes.” He looked at me. “You go find blood.” I rushed out of the operating room and ran to the lab, feeling as if time was ticking underneath my watch. Not knowing her blood type, a lab worker walked with me to the operating room to get a ...