Iris Harris felt that she might not be far from death.
Her body was increasingly deteriorating, and sometimes it was even difficult to stand up. The people sent by James Mason to treat her wore worried expressions every day, whispering among themselves and sighing as they looked at her.
She knew she wouldn't live long anyway, and seeing them this anxious made her feel uncomfortable. Perhaps James had instructed them about something, so when they saw her illness worsening, they were more worried than she was.
"I know my own body," Iris Harris reassured them, "You don't need to worry too much about me."
The person who had just taken her blood pressure glanced at her and sighed, "We won't let you die."
Iris found this somewhat amusing. It was not a matter of life or death; without a suitable bone marrow, death was inevitable.
"Without a matching bone marrow, it's an unavoidable situation," Iris comforted him.
