Encephalitis can leave a child deaf or with an intellectual disability.
For every one thousand children who get measles, one or two will die.
Die.
A one-in-one-thousand chance. That was the type of odds my little girl was dealing with just then.
I stifled a sob, at the same time wanting to curse someone, something. I was so angry with myself, yes. But I was also terrified. Terrified that I would lose her—my little Rosie—the only thing I had left.
“Kate, you have to think pos—” Lucy began, trying to soothe me as she rushed along the corridor with me, trying to keep up.
“Please don’t tell me that just now!” I raged, tears filling my eyes afresh. “I’m scared to death and trying not to rip off my own skin. I’ve never felt so helpless.”
No, that wasn’t quite true. I’d also felt completely that way two years before when I’d found my daughter screaming in the kitchen right after she discovered her dad’s lifeless body. That was a pretty helpless moment, too.
My heart lurched for Greg, too. If there was ever a moment I needed him, it was then. But of course that wasn’t possible.
I reached the ICU then, frantically searching for Dr. Ryan, unable to believe that something like this could happen the minute I’d left her side.
WhyhadI left her side? To take a fuckingbubble bath...
I thought my brain was literally going to explode while I waited, watching with horror as I noticed the body language and facial expressions of the medical team gathered around her. I knew that look.
Oh, please, God, no...
I can’t even remember being taken out of the room, Lucy’s arm around my shoulders, my body racked with sobs and my brain pounding with sorrow and despair.
Kids are hardy...there’s really no need for parents to drive themselves nuts worrying...
To go through all that, I thought, looking down at my hands to see my knuckles whitening, to spend all of last night watching my little girl fight valiantly for her barely lived life while I could do nothing but stand there, helpless...
She’s only five years old...
To go through all that—a night of utter torture and despair—and now have to hearthat womanon TV, jabbering about how kidsshouldbe put in danger, that it didn’t do them any harm...
A loud sob escaped from my mouth, and I stared unseeingly up at the TV, fresh hatred burning through my veins.
How dare she? I raged, furiously wiping my eyes. How dare Madeleine Cooper say such a thing, when it was her bad decisions—her downright irresponsible choices—that had put me and Rosie through hell these last few weeks?
Howdareshe?
I’d heard those stupid voice mails, pathetic attempts at an apology and faux concern by sending balloons, when the truth was the silly bitch couldn’t care less. That woman and her family had simply picked up and gotten on with their lives, as if what had befallen Rosie was absolutely nothing.
And now here she was on national TV, dressed up to the nines with her perfect makeup and bouncy blond curls, being paraded as some kind of parenting expert...
I felt sick to the core. Now I was long past crying and still too numb for grief. The only emotion I felt just then was...rage.
Rage at Madeleine Cooper for visiting this misery on me, just when I’d started to pick up the pieces of my and Rosie’s life after Greg’s death. Rage at the woman for adding insult to injury by taunting me in my darkest hour.
I believe that those same people don’t understand the enormous damage their reckless decisions have caused...
Christine was right: the Coopersshouldbe held responsible for this and be made to face the true cost of their recklessness.
My shoulders shuddered and spontaneously collapsed with another bout of tears.
Because my poor little Rosie was the one who’d ended up paying for it.
16
