Many years ago, when I worked as a volunteer at Stanford Hospital, I
got to know a little girl named Liza who was suffering from a rare and
serious disease. Her only chance of recovery appeared to be a blood
transfusion from her five-year-old brother, who had miraculously
survived the same disease and had developed the antibodies needed to
combat the illness. The doctor explained the situation to her little
brother, and asked the boy if he would be willing to give his blood to
his sister. I saw him hesitate for only a moment before taking a deep
breath and saying, "Yes, I'll do it if it will save Liza." As the
transfusion progressed, he lay in bed next to his sister and smiled,
as we all did, seeing the color returning to her cheeks. Then his
face grew pale and his smile faded. He looked up at the doctor and
asked with a trembling voice, "Will I start to die right away?" Being
young, the boy had misunderstood the doctor; he thought he was going
to have to give her all his blood.