Now, for the first time in my life, I can't feel Christmas. I can't reach it, no matter how hard I try. With each day that passes that my daughter is in pain, with each wrenching conversation I have with her doctors, with each agonizing talk I have with her about death and dying, Christmas recedes a little bit more.
You'll get the worst phone call imaginable or you'll bring your child to the doctor for something you think is routine only to find yourself in an ambulance being transported... elsewhere. So, to those of you who have suddenly found yourselves in a hospital room facing the very worst possible news of your lives, here is some advice to keep you sane.
I sit on a train destined for New York for the sole purpose of seeing a couple I have never met. Their home is across the world. I am not certain what they do for a living, how they met, what they do for fun, or what type of food they like. Yet, I am confident that I know their innermost thoughts and that we have more in common in how we confront our daily lives than many people I have known for decades.