Juhi Vora, 14

School: Singapore Chinese Girls' School

Topic: Your organ transplant journey as a teenager

Award: First Place, Junior Category, 2024

Jaundiced skin. Nausea. Tremors.

A week of grappling with these companions is a testament to the pernicious malady that is ravaging my vitality. It began with an excruciating pain in my upper right abdomen. I convinced myself that the pain was ephemeral, maintaining my stoic facade. Admitting vulnerability seemed tantamount to relinquishing control over my situation. However, my parents' concerned gaze pierced through my feeble attempts to conceal my distress, compelling me to confront the reality I had been desperately evading.

They rushed me to the hospital. The flurry of medical assessments and diagnostic tests blurred together in a whirlwind of white coats and medical jargon.

“Sally, are you okay?”

My parents' concerned voices bring me out of my retrospective trance. We are waiting for the doctor’s diagnosis with bated breaths. A shiver runs down my spine as the doctor arrives, stony-faced.

I brace myself for the worst, my heart palpitating.

“The tests have confirmed our suspicions,” the doctor begins, her voice measured but sympathetic. “You have last-stage acute liver failure.”

The words reverberate through my mind like a death knell. My parents’ hands tighten around mine. The doctor continues, her words a blur as she outlines the grim reality of my condition. A liver transplant is my only hope for survival. As a cynic, relying on others’ altruism for my life is perturbing. Nothing could have prepared me for this epiphany.

“We have put you on the waiting list,” is the only reassurance that the doctor is able to provide.

As I languish in the confines of the hospital room, hope glides away as I resign to the ennui of hospital life, preparing myself for the end.

The once-familiar faces of the medical staff become a blur as I retreat further into myself. Despite my parents' unwavering presence by my side, I feel a profound sense of isolation. The possibility of a liver transplant seems like an unattainable mirage on the horizon.

All of a sudden, an emaciated teenage girl of my age, named Lily, is brought into my hospital room. I find out that she is on the waiting list for a heart transplant. Her optimism starkly contrasts my despair. She tells me about her future aspirations of serving the community once she recovers.

“What are your future aspirations?” Lily asked, beseeching an answer that I am unable to give.

I had taken my life for granted and now, it is coming to an end.

“No matter what, we must continue to live on,” she mumbles, as if reading my mind.

I nod, nonplussed. However, for the first time in a while, I manage to doze off into a peaceful slumber, her words replaying in the recesses of my mind.

I am awakened by a cacophony of screams. I open my eyes to witness the pandemonium taking place. To my horror, Lily is being whisked away, her frail form surrounded by a tearful family. As I watch, a sinking feeling grips my heart, and I realise with a pang of sorrow that Lily's journey has come to an end.

Tears blur my vision as I mourn her passing. I cannot help but wonder how much time I have left until my fate mirrors hers.

Suddenly, a doctor bursts into the room.

"Someone who has recently passed away expressed a wish to donate their liver," the doctor reveals. “The transplant can proceed."

My parents' jubilation is palpable but a sense of survivor’s guilt lingers beneath the surface as I grapple with the knowledge that Lily's life was cut short while mine is granted a second chance. She had great plans to help the community. She deserved to live more than I do.

The procedure itself is a blur of sterile surroundings and skilled hands, and when I awaken, I am greeted by the steady beep of monitors and the reassuring presence of my parents. In the days that follow, as I slowly regain my strength, Lily's mother visits me, evidently grief-stricken.

"Thank you," I say, my voice thick with emotion. "Lily saved my life."

"You're helping a part of Lily live on, and I'll always be grateful for that." Her words echo Lily’s sentiments.

I make a silent vow to honour Lily's memory by making the most of the second chance she has given me. I pledge to treasure every moment and help the community for as long as I live. When my time comes to an end, my organs will be donated to the needy.

Live on.

Disclaimer: Please note that the views and opinions expressed in the essays for the Live On Festival 2024 are those of the participants and are not endorsed by the National Organ Transplant Unit (Ministry of Health).

To learn more about organ donation and organ transplantation in Singapore, please visit www.liveon.gov.sg