My Teenage Daughter Wrote Me a Letter Begging Me to Believe Her Pain — I Found It Five Weeks Later, Tucked Inside My Husband’s Jacket
It had not been the doctor being cautious for caution’s sake.
There had been a specific, identifiable clinical reason to find the source of Irene’s pain, a reason that had been present five weeks ago and had not gone anywhere in the intervening time, and it was now important — he chose the word carefully — to act without any further delay.
Martha turned to her daughter and made her own voice as steady as she could, because she understood that whatever she did in the next sixty seconds, Irene would carry.
“Irene,” she said.