“That’s amazing,” I said. “Absolutely amazing.”
I didn’t know what to say. What did you say to a mother who was getting ready to watch her child go through an ordeal that was nothing short of hellish even in the best of circumstances?
“We don’t need anything,” she said. “But anything you could do for them...” She trailed off.
I held up my phone. “Can I post this?”
“Oh, of course! Maggie will be thrilled.”
I wrote down my contact information and gave Maggie’s mom a hug. “Please promise me you’ll get in touch. I’ll get something amazing organized.”
“Thank you,” she said sincerely. “It means a lot.”
I posted my picture on my Instastory and wrote:My friend Maggie is headed to St. Jude’s to show her leukemia who’s boss. Let’s show her some love by making a donation in her honor! Swipe up for more info.
I walked back into the waiting room, knowing that no matter what happened to me today, I would get through it. If Maggie could, I could, too.
I motioned for my crazy brood to come on back and whispered to Caroline, “I tagged you in my story. Make sure you repost it.”
She looked puzzled.
“It’sactualphilanthropy,” I said.
Moments later, the five of us, one big happy family, were crammed into the doctor’s tiny office. I was sitting in one of the chairs flanking the desk, Mom was in the other, Mark was standing beside me, and Caroline and Sloane were in the corner trying to make themselves smaller than they were.
When Dr. Thomas walked in, I was taken aback. I had forgotten how handsome he was. I wondered if it made the bad news he often delivered seem less harsh. I hoped I wouldn’t find out.
“Wow,” Dr. Thomas said. “I actually haven’t ever had this many people at an appointment. At least, not a lab follow-up.”
I smiled at him apologetically.
“You could say we’re a close family,” Caroline quipped.
I turned to Mom. She looked very pale.
“I’malmostfamily,” Mark said jokingly. He was trying to keep his tone light, but the way he said it made me feel like he was looking for some kind of credit, likeI’m here and marrying her even though she might be defective.But maybe I was being defensive. He was here, after all.
“Let’s cut to the chase,” Dr. Thomas said, and Mom squeezed her eyes shut like that would protect her if the news was bad.
“You’re going to be fine.”
There was a collective sigh, as if everyone in the room had been holding his or her breath.
“We could take this on the road,” Dr. Thomas said, smiling.
He turned a sheet of paper around for me to see, one filled with lots of percentages and numbers that I didn’t understand.
“Your iron, fibrinogen, and ferritin are all critically low. In fact...” He held his finger up to me, pressed a button on his phone, and said, “Karen, let’s get Ms. Murphy started on an iron infusion now so she doesn’t have to wait.”
Then he looked back at me. “See this number?”
I nodded.
“This represents something in our bodies that scavenges for iron. You have twice the number that we normally see. Your body is working hard to keep up.”
“So what’s causing this?” Mark chimed in.
“I want to do some further testing to make sure there isn’t an underlying infection, but my hunch is that with Emerson’s history of heavy menstruation and the restrictive diet she has been on, her difficult travel schedule, the strain on her body...” He paused. “That’s my fancy way of saying that iron-deficient anemia isn’t uncommon in young women, and with a few iron infusions and some dietary changes, you should be as good as new.”
