But what scared me more than the transplant, more than the debilitating side effects that came with it, more than the possibility of death itself, was the thought of being remembered as someone else’s sad story of unmet potential. My most significant accomplishments as an adult had been fetching coffees and making photocopies as a paralegal, and doing my best to fight a disease I’d never wanted in the first place. I hadn’t done anything I was proud of yet. I had spent my twenty-three years on this planet preparing for a life: pulling all-nighters so that I could get the grades to receive a
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