Sympathy or Empathy?

Twelve years ago, on a sunny Tuesday morning, I dropped my younger kids with a friend to run my oldest to the pediatrician’s office. I made the appointment early, planning to take him to a special breakfast for just the two of us afterward.

Kyle had spent the summer battling headaches (check out Hangover Hammer), fatigue, and various viruses. Expecting a diagnosis similar to Mono, I was stunned when the doctor not only informed me that Kyle and I wouldn’t be going out for bacon and eggs, but that we wouldn’t even be going home.

Tears brimming in our doctor’s eyes, he instructed me to drive straight to the children’s hospital, where he’d arranged for a pediatric oncologist to admit Kyle to begin immediate chemotherapy.

Oncologist. Chemotherapy. Cancer.

Heart in my throat, lungs twist-tied, my brain refusing to fire, I couldn’t process…READ THE REST ON CROSSWALK.COM.

For similar posts–see Surviving the Storm.