Lina — a Third-Year Medical Student — Did Everything She Could to Save Her Father, Who Was Lying in a Hospital Bed Waiting for a Kidney Transplant
At home, there was only her aging mother and her 10-year-old younger brother.
Lina had gone door to door, applied to charities, pleaded with foundations — but ₱2 million was an impossible amount for her family.
Until one night, Ramon Delgado, a powerful timber tycoon operating in Mindanao — a man Lina had once met while working part-time — sent her a message:
“Spend one night with me. By morning, the full ₱2 million will be transferred.”
Lina cried the entire night.
But her father only had a few days left.
In the end, she agreed.
True to his word, the money was transferred directly to the hospital.
Her father’s surgery was scheduled immediately.
One week later, Lina returned to the hospital for medical screening, preparing to donate her kidney to her father.
But the moment the doctor opened her file… he froze.
Dr. Miguel Reyes — the physician overseeing her father’s case — stared at Lina’s blood test results for a long time before speaking slowly:
“Lina… did anything unusual happen to you in the past week?”
Her heart began to race.
“No… I only completed the transplant paperwork. Is something wrong, Doctor?”
Dr. Reyes placed the lab report on the desk, his voice trembling:
“You… can no longer donate your kidney.
Lina, you have tested positive for HIV — in the window period.”
Lina stood frozen, her legs giving way beneath her.
“That’s impossible… that can’t be…”
The doctor continued gently:
“The results suggest recent exposure — approximately 7 to 14 days ago.”
Exactly the time she had spent that night with Delgado.
Lina broke down, shaking violently.
“No… I was only with one person… just one… It can’t be…”
Dr. Reyes let out a heavy sigh.
“That person… may be the source.”
Lina ran out of the hospital, calling Delgado over and over again.
But his phone was already switched off.
She went straight to his mansion.
The gates were locked. A security guard glanced at her and shook his head.
“The boss left the country three days ago.
Left in a hurry. We weren’t told why.”
Lina nearly screamed:
“Is he sick? Do you know anything at all?”
The guard hesitated before answering quietly:
“I only know he’s been secretly going to hospitals lately.
Once, I overheard a doctor saying something about… low immunity, needing daily medication.”
Lina collapsed onto the stone steps.
But the final twist was still to come.
Three days later, the police arrived at the hospital.
Lina was asked to give a statement.
It turned out that Ramon Delgado was under investigation, linked to an illegal logging and wildlife trafficking syndicate.
In his confidential medical records, investigators found a blurred but unmistakable note:
“Currently on ARV treatment — HIV positive.”
Lina stared at the words, her fingertips turning cold.
A police officer spoke quietly:
“We suspect he intentionally infected multiple young women.
You’re not the only victim.”
Lina covered her face and sobbed like a child.
The ₱2 million had saved her father’s life —
but it had cost her her future.
The only question echoing in Lina’s mind was:
“If I had been given one more choice that day…
would I still have had to pay such a cruel price?”
Epilogue: What Lina Lost — and What She Refused to Lose
Lina did not see her father wake up after the surgery.
The transplant was successful, the doctors said.
His body accepted the kidney. His vital signs stabilized.
But when he finally opened his eyes, Lina was no longer standing beside the bed.
She was in another wing of the hospital — sitting alone, staring at a white wall, holding a pamphlet titled:
“Living with HIV: Treatment, Care, and Hope.”
For days, Lina refused to eat.
She replayed everything again and again — that message, that night, that decision made in desperation.
She hated herself for surviving.
She hated the money that had saved her father.
She hated a world where a young woman’s body could become currency.
When her father was strong enough to speak, Dr. Reyes asked Lina if she wanted to see him.
She shook her head.
“How do I look at him,” she whispered, “when his life was bought with mine?”
But her father insisted.
When Lina finally entered the room, he was thinner, weaker — but alive.
He smiled when he saw her.
“Why are you crying?” he asked softly.
“I’m alive. That’s all that matters.”
Lina broke down completely.
She told him everything.
The money.
The man.
The diagnosis.
Her father listened in silence, then reached for her hand — gently, as if afraid she might disappear.
“My daughter,” he said, his voice shaking,
“a life saved by destroying another is not salvation.”
He closed his eyes, tears slipping down his cheeks.
“If I had died… at least you would still be whole.”
Lina returned to medical school three months later.
Not everyone knew her story — but rumors spread.
Some classmates avoided her.
Some whispered.
Some looked at her with pity.
She almost quit.
Until one afternoon, during her infectious disease rotation, she met Ana — a young woman barely older than her, sitting quietly in a clinic hallway.
Ana smiled first.
“I heard you’re a med student,” she said.
“So am I. I just… took a longer road.”
Ana had been living with HIV for six years.
She was healthy.
She was strong.
She was alive.
And for the first time since her diagnosis, Lina saw a future that didn’t end in darkness.
The case against Ramon Delgado eventually exploded in the media.
More victims came forward.
The government launched an investigation into how his medical records had been concealed — and how many powerful men had been protected.
Lina testified once.
She did not cry.
She spoke calmly, clearly, like a doctor presenting a case.
Because she was done being silent.
Years later, Lina stood in a small clinic in Quezon City.
On the wall behind her was a simple sign:
“Free Testing. Free Treatment. No Judgment.”
She was no longer just a medical student.
She was a doctor.
A doctor living with HIV.
A doctor who understood fear, shame, and survival better than most.
Every time a young woman sat across from her, trembling, Lina would say gently:
“You are not broken.
You are not dirty.
You are not alone.”
And sometimes, late at night, when the clinic was quiet, Lina would think back to that desperate girl who believed she had no choices.
She wished she could tell her one thing:
“You were never weak.
You were abandoned by a system that failed you.
And even after everything — you still chose to live.”