For ten years, I lived as if there were an invisible clock counting down above my head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I was thirty-eight when I sat in Exam Room 3 watching Dr. Weller study my medical chart with an expression I couldn\u2019t quite read.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The fluorescent light overhead buzzed relentlessly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I sat on the paper-covered examination table, wearing one of those ridiculous gowns that somehow made every patient feel twelve years old, while my doctor flipped through pages he had seen a hundred times before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His hands were trembling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cEverything all right, Doc?\u201d I asked. \u201cYou look more nervous than I do.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dr. Weller looked up too quickly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cJust tired, Daniel. Long week.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I smiled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMaybe you need a doctor.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Normally, he would have laughed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That day, he didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At thirty-eight, I didn\u2019t look much like someone who had supposedly been dying for a decade.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I was tall, broad-shouldered, and still strong enough that the younger guys at the hardware store occasionally challenged me to lifting contests.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They usually lost.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
None of them knew that my nightstand was covered with prescription bottles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Morning pills.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Afternoon pills.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Night pills.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Medication to treat symptoms.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Medication to manage the side effects caused by the other medication.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It had been that way since I was twenty-eight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That was when a specialty clinic had given me the diagnosis that reshaped my entire life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dr. Weller had been a young physician then, working under an older specialist.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His mentor had delivered the terrible news.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Weller had mostly stood near the wall, listening.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Afterward, he eventually became the doctor who handled everything for me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Prescriptions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Referrals.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Blood tests.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Follow-up appointments.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Every question I had about the disease supposedly destroying my body went through him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I trusted him completely.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Why wouldn\u2019t I?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He knew my history better than anyone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He even called me every year on my birthday.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My older sister Meredith never trusted my ability to take care of myself quite as much as Dr. Weller did.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She called every Sunday.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Every single conversation began almost exactly the same way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAre you drinking those protein shakes?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMeredith, I work in a hardware store with a snack aisle.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThat is not what I asked.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt\u2019s the answer you\u2019re getting.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She would sigh dramatically.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then, usually, she would ask if I needed groceries.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Meredith had been trying to keep me alive since long before I supposedly started dying.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Our mother had never been much good at mothering, so my sister had taken over the position unofficially when we were kids.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I complained about it constantly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I secretly loved her for it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For years, that was my life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Work.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Doctor appointments.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Medication.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sunday phone calls.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And the quiet understanding that I probably didn\u2019t have the same future everyone else assumed they had.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then I met Natalie.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And for the first time, I started wanting more time than I had been promised.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Natalie and I met at a bookstore fundraiser.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She was a graphic designer, a widow, and the kind of woman whose laugh made other people smile even when they didn\u2019t know what was funny.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She also came with a ten-year-old daughter named Carrie.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Carrie had a gap between her front teeth, absolutely no conversational filter, and the confidence of a person who had never once wondered whether a question might be inappropriate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At the first dinner the three of us shared, she proved it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Halfway through her spaghetti, Carrie put down her fork and looked directly at me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMom says you\u2019re really sick.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Natalie froze.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCarrie.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her daughter looked genuinely confused.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Natalie turned bright red.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMaybe we don\u2019t have to discuss Daniel\u2019s medical history over pasta.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But Carrie wasn\u2019t finished.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She looked at me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIf you\u2019re going to die, does that mean I shouldn\u2019t get attached to you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Natalie looked like she wanted the floor to open beneath her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I burst out laughing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I couldn\u2019t help it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then I reached across the table and gently took Natalie\u2019s hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Carrie waited seriously for an answer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So I gave her one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt means we probably shouldn\u2019t waste any time.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She thought about that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then she nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOkay.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A beat passed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCool.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Natalie released a breath so powerful that the candle in the middle of the table flickered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Looking back, I think that was the moment Carrie became mine in my heart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not when I proposed to Natalie.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not when I started filling out adoption paperwork.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not during any of the family photographs or holidays that came later.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It happened over spaghetti, when a little girl who had already lost her father in every practical sense decided that loving someone was worth the risk of losing him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Carrie\u2019s biological father had disappeared when she was three.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
No birthday cards.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
No phone calls.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
No support.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
By the time Natalie and I had been together for a year, I was already helping with homework, attending school events, reminding Carrie to brush her teeth, and being informed that my taste in movies was \u201cextremely questionable.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I loved it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For the first time in years, my life stopped feeling like a waiting room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It felt full.Part 3 \u2014 We Were Planning a Wedding When Everything Changed<\/p>\n\n\n\n
One afternoon, Natalie, Carrie, and I stood inside a bakery discussing our wedding cake.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
By discussing, I mean Natalie was trying to finalize the order while Carrie was passionately arguing that blue should be considered a cake flavor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cBlue is a color,\u201d I told her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt can be both.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt absolutely cannot.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Carrie crossed her arms.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt can if the frosting is blue.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThat still doesn\u2019t make blue a flavor.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She gave me the kind of disappointed look normally reserved for adults who had failed basic logic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A few feet away, Natalie was staring at our seating chart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIf Aunt Denise sits next to Uncle Rob, someone is going to end up wearing the punch.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019m listening,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou clearly are not.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cBlue cake. Punch violence. I\u2019m completely caught up.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Natalie laughed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I remember standing there and thinking how absurdly lucky I was.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
According to predictions made years earlier, I should barely have been functioning by then.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Depending on which prognosis I believed, I might not even have been alive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Instead, I was planning a wedding.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And arguing with a ten-year-old about frosting.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That same week, I filed the paperwork to legally adopt Carrie.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I already thought of her as my daughter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The legal process simply needed to catch up with us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then, three weeks before the wedding, my phone rang at 11:14 p.m.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I remember the exact time because I happened to look at the clock while answering.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The man on the other end introduced himself as a state trooper.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There had been an accident on the interstate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Natalie had been involved.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The next several sentences came slowly, gently, as though speaking them carefully could somehow make them less devastating.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She had not survived.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I don\u2019t remember driving to the hospital.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I remember fluorescent lights.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I remember sitting in a plastic chair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I remember a nurse named Kathy repeatedly filling a paper cup with water even though I barely touched it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I remember coming home around four in the morning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Our neighbor Cynthia had stayed with Carrie.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My daughter was asleep in her room, curled around a ridiculous stuffed penguin Natalie had won for her at the state fair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I lowered myself onto the floor beside her bed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then I took her hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019m not leaving you,\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019m not going anywhere.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I said it as if repeating the words could turn them into a guarantee.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But both of us had already learned that guarantees meant very little.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
By nine the next morning, I was on the phone with Carrie\u2019s caseworker.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her name was Ms. Martinez.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI need the adoption expedited,\u201d I told her. \u201cWhatever paperwork you need, whatever hearing has to happen, whatever I have to sign\u2014just tell me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There was a pause.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I immediately hated that pause.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDaniel,\u201d she said carefully, \u201cthe adoption application has been suspended.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My grip tightened around the phone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou know why.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I did.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My prognosis.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She continued gently.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThe committee has concerns about placing Carrie permanently with someone whose medical condition may result in her experiencing another major loss very soon.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I closed my eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cShe already lost her mother.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo, you know that as a sentence in a file.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My voice began shaking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cShe\u2019s upstairs right now sleeping in a room that still smells like Natalie\u2019s shampoo. When she wakes up, I\u2019m the one who has to tell her that her mother isn\u2019t coming home.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDaniel\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou can\u2019t protect her from grief by taking away the only parent she has left.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Silence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then Ms. Martinez said, \u201cI\u2019ll bring your file back before the committee.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhen?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAs quickly as I can.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThat isn\u2019t an answer.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt\u2019s the only promise I can make today.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I thanked her because yelling would accomplish nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then I ended the call.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
On the kitchen table was a half-full glass of water Natalie had left there before going out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I couldn\u2019t make myself move it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It felt ridiculous.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was only a glass.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But throwing away the water somehow felt too close to admitting that the person who had poured it would never return.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Around noon, the doorbell rang.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Meredith stood outside holding a casserole in one hand and a yellow legal pad in the other.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My sister had exactly two responses to a crisis.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Feed someone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Organize something.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She had come prepared to do both.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMove,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She walked past me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhere\u2019s Carrie?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSleeping again.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cGood. Sit.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMeredith\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDo not \u2018Meredith\u2019 me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She put the casserole on the stove.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then she sat across from me, opened the legal pad, and clicked her pen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou\u2019re going to fight this.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThey think I\u2019m dying.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019m aware.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAnd they have a point.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her answer came so sharply that I stopped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Meredith\u2019s expression softened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For one moment, she stopped looking like my bossy older sister and looked like the girl who used to clean the blood from my knees when we were children.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThat little girl has lost enough people,\u201d she whispered. \u201cShe is not losing you because some committee is scared of what might happen someday.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She pushed the legal pad toward me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSo start talking. Who do we call?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I picked up the pen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And the fight began.Part 5 \u2014 Fighting to Become Her Father<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Meredith approached the adoption battle as though we were preparing for war.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cGuardianship documents first,\u201d she announced one morning. \u201cThen financial planning. Then medical directives. Then letters from the school and pediatrician.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She paused.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIf necessary, we bribe the mailman.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThat sounds illegal.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019ll bake him cookies.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThat sounds like bribery with extra steps.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHe\u2019ll never know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Within days, I had named Meredith as Carrie\u2019s future guardian if something happened to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I created detailed financial plans.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Updated my will.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Collected letters from teachers, neighbors, doctors, and anyone else who could speak to the life Carrie and I shared.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
By the end of the week, the folder was so thick I joked it could stop a bullet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ms. Martinez remained cautious.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I couldn\u2019t entirely blame her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDaniel,\u201d she told me during one meeting, \u201cmy job requires me to imagine the worst possible outcome for Carrie.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThe worst thing already happened.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She looked at me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHer mother died.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I leaned forward.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cEverything we do now is about helping her survive what comes after.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ms. Martinez wrote something on her legal pad.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I decided not to ask what.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dr. Weller also wrote a letter supporting my adoption.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But something about him seemed increasingly strange.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When he handed me the letter, his fingers shook.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou all right?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCardiac scare earlier this summer. Nothing major.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou should retire before I do.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Normally, that kind of joke got at least a reluctant smile from him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not that day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Instead, he looked away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then he said quietly, \u201cMy old mentor retired recently.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThe specialist?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThe one who originally handled your case.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Something about his expression felt wrong.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But grief had scrambled every instinct I had.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I assumed Dr. Weller was dealing with his own problems.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Meanwhile, Carrie had developed her own system for coping.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She reorganized my medications.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Every bottle received a colored sticker.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Blue for mornings.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Yellow for afternoons.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A tiny cartoon cat for nighttime pills.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhy the cat?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCats understand sleep.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Apparently, there was no arguing with that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
One afternoon at the grocery store, a woman noticed my medication organizer and asked Carrie whether I was doing okay.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Carrie nodded confidently.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHe\u2019s medically inconvenient.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The woman blinked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Carrie patted my arm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cBut emotionally excellent.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I nearly dropped the cereal box.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At night, Meredith called and read legal paperwork aloud.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSection 4B,\u201d she would say solemnly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOh good. My favorite.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou haven\u2019t heard it yet.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cBuild suspense.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou are unbearable.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cLove you too.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And somehow, despite everything, we kept going.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The adoption hearing came months later.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That morning, my body felt worse than it had in years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
By the time we reached the courthouse steps, my legs were numb.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Meredith noticed immediately.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She slipped an arm through mine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d she said. \u201cWe look sophisticated.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWe look eighty.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSpeak for yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Inside, the judge was far kinder than I had expected.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He reviewed the paperwork.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Asked questions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Spoke with Ms. Martinez.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then he asked Carrie to come forward.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She was wearing the blue dress Natalie had bought her the previous summer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Seeing it nearly broke me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The judge smiled gently.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCarrie, I know a lot of adults have been talking about your future.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI want to hear from you. What do you want?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Carrie reached for my hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her fingers wrapped tightly around mine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then she looked at the judge.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHe\u2019s the only dad I have.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The courtroom became completely silent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She swallowed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then added,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cPlease don\u2019t make us waste a single day.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My eyes filled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Across the room, Ms. Martinez turned toward the window and quickly wiped her cheek.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The adoption was approved.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Carrie was legally my daughter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When we walked out of the courthouse, Meredith was crying openly while insisting she was not.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI have allergies.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIn December?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSeasonal.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhich season?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cShut up.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For six weeks, I allowed myself to believe we had won.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then my doctors gave me the news I had spent ten years expecting.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My condition had apparently worsened dramatically.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I had weeks left.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Maybe a few months if my body held on longer than expected.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I listened quietly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I went home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And then I started writing letters.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Meredith approached the adoption battle as though we were preparing for war.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cGuardianship documents first,\u201d she announced one morning. \u201cThen financial planning. Then medical directives. Then letters from the school and pediatrician.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She paused.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIf necessary, we bribe the mailman.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThat sounds illegal.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019ll bake him cookies.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThat sounds like bribery with extra steps.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHe\u2019ll never know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Within days, I had named Meredith as Carrie\u2019s future guardian if something happened to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I created detailed financial plans.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Updated my will.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Collected letters from teachers, neighbors, doctors, and anyone else who could speak to the life Carrie and I shared.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
By the end of the week, the folder was so thick I joked it could stop a bullet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ms. Martinez remained cautious.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I couldn\u2019t entirely blame her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDaniel,\u201d she told me during one meeting, \u201cmy job requires me to imagine the worst possible outcome for Carrie.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThe worst thing already happened.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She looked at me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHer mother died.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I leaned forward.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cEverything we do now is about helping her survive what comes after.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ms. Martinez wrote something on her legal pad.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I decided not to ask what.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dr. Weller also wrote a letter supporting my adoption.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But something about him seemed increasingly strange.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When he handed me the letter, his fingers shook.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou all right?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCardiac scare earlier this summer. Nothing major.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou should retire before I do.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Normally, that kind of joke got at least a reluctant smile from him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not that day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Instead, he looked away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then he said quietly, \u201cMy old mentor retired recently.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThe specialist?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThe one who originally handled your case.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Something about his expression felt wrong.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But grief had scrambled every instinct I had.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I assumed Dr. Weller was dealing with his own problems.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Meanwhile, Carrie had developed her own system for coping.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She reorganized my medications.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Every bottle received a colored sticker.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Blue for mornings.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Yellow for afternoons.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A tiny cartoon cat for nighttime pills.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhy the cat?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCats understand sleep.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Apparently, there was no arguing with that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
One afternoon at the grocery store, a woman noticed my medication organizer and asked Carrie whether I was doing okay.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Carrie nodded confidently.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHe\u2019s medically inconvenient.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The woman blinked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Carrie patted my arm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cBut emotionally excellent.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I nearly dropped the cereal box.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At night, Meredith called and read legal paperwork aloud.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSection 4B,\u201d she would say solemnly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOh good. My favorite.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou haven\u2019t heard it yet.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cBuild suspense.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou are unbearable.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cLove you too.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And somehow, despite everything, we kept going.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The adoption hearing came months later.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That morning, my body felt worse than it had in years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
By the time we reached the courthouse steps, my legs were numb.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Meredith noticed immediately.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She slipped an arm through mine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d she said. \u201cWe look sophisticated.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWe look eighty.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSpeak for yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Inside, the judge was far kinder than I had expected.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He reviewed the paperwork.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Asked questions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Spoke with Ms. Martinez.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then he asked Carrie to come forward.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She was wearing the blue dress Natalie had bought her the previous summer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Seeing it nearly broke me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The judge smiled gently.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCarrie, I know a lot of adults have been talking about your future.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI want to hear from you. What do you want?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Carrie reached for my hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her fingers wrapped tightly around mine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then she looked at the judge.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHe\u2019s the only dad I have.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The courtroom became completely silent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She swallowed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then added,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cPlease don\u2019t make us waste a single day.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My eyes filled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Across the room, Ms. Martinez turned toward the window and quickly wiped her cheek.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The adoption was approved.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Carrie was legally my daughter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When we walked out of the courthouse, Meredith was crying openly while insisting she was not.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI have allergies.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIn December?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSeasonal.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhich season?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cShut up.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For six weeks, I allowed myself to believe we had won.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then my doctors gave me the news I had spent ten years expecting.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My condition had apparently worsened dramatically.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I had weeks left.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Maybe a few months if my body held on longer than expected.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I listened quietly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I went home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And then I started writing letters.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I wrote to Carrie for birthdays I believed I would never see.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her sixteenth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her eighteenth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her high school graduation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her college graduation, just in case.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I wrote one for the first time she brought someone home and was nervous about introducing them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
One for her wedding, though I told her marriage was optional and anyone who said otherwise deserved to be ignored.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I wrote one for a day when life became so difficult she forgot how strong she was.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And then I wrote the shortest letter of all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It said:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I saw you. I always did.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n I put everything inside an old shoebox.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It didn\u2019t seem grand enough for goodbye letters.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But nothing did.<\/p>\n\n\n\n After that, I scheduled what I assumed would be one of my final appointments with Dr. Weller.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I walked into his office prepared for another grim conversation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Instead, I found him sitting behind his desk with my test results spread across the surface.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He looked terrible.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Worse than me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n His hands were locked together so tightly that his knuckles had turned pale.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He kept looking at the papers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then at me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then back down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Finally, I asked,<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDoc, what is going on?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n His eyes lifted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There were tears in them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My stomach dropped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cJust tell me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He took a shaky breath.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDaniel, there is something I should have told you a very long time ago.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I gripped the edge of the examination table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n His next words made no sense.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou aren\u2019t dying.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I stared at him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He continued.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou never were.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n For a moment, I heard nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Not the buzzing light.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Not traffic outside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Not even my own breathing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat did you say?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Dr. Weller looked down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cTen years ago, when you were diagnosed, I was still the junior physician on your case.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I remembered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMy mentor believed your tests confirmed the disease.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAnd you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n His face crumpled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI thought he was wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Every part of me went cold.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThere were inconsistencies. Results that didn\u2019t fit. I thought additional testing should have been done.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I stared at him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThen why wasn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He closed his eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBecause I was afraid to challenge him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The silence between us became unbearable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Dr. Weller continued.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhen you were transferred into my long-term care, I kept following the treatment protocol he had created.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou knew there might be a mistake?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI suspected it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cFor ten years?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n His eyes filled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI told myself I was being cautious. Then the medication caused symptoms that seemed to confirm the diagnosis. Every year that passed made admitting what I suspected harder.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I stood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My knees nearly gave way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThose pills made me sick?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMany of the problems we believed were disease progression were actually medication-related.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I couldn\u2019t speak.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Ten years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Ten years of believing every birthday might be one of my last.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Ten years of planning around death.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Ten years of deciding not to take risks because I assumed I wouldn\u2019t be around to finish what I started.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Ten years of Meredith worrying.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Natalie worrying.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Carrie almost being taken away from me because a committee believed I was dying.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou stopped me from getting another opinion.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Dr. Weller nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou renewed everything.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou knew.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n His voice broke.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI was afraid.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I laughed once.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There was no humor in it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSo was I.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He began crying.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI filed a report with the medical board this morning. Against myself.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I sat back down because I suddenly didn\u2019t trust my legs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Dr. Weller continued.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYour recent tests were reviewed independently. Repeatedly. There is no evidence that you ever had the terminal illness you were diagnosed with.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I stared at my hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n They were shaking now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My whole life had been built around a lie that had begun as someone else\u2019s mistake and survived because another person had been too afraid to admit it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then Dr. Weller slid an envelope across the desk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThere\u2019s something else.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I looked at him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat could possibly be left?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The envelope carried Natalie\u2019s name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My breath caught.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Dr. Weller explained that Natalie had arranged months before the accident to donate her body to medical science.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She had never told me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Apparently, she had made the decision partly because of me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n If her donation could contribute to research that someday helped people living with illnesses like mine, she wanted that possibility.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I laughed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then I cried.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Because of course Natalie had done something like that quietly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She had spent her life believing love should become useful whenever possible.<\/p>\n\n\n\n For several minutes, Dr. Weller and I sat without speaking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I had every reason to hate him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Part of me did.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Maybe part of me always would.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Finally, I stood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Dr. Weller looked up nervously.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I rested one hand on his shoulder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt took courage to finally tell me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n His eyes filled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I continued before he could misunderstand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThat doesn\u2019t erase what you did.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He lowered his head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou let me build ten years of my life around something that wasn\u2019t true.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019m going to have to decide what accountability looks like.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBut I\u2019m not carrying your guilt for you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I removed my hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThat part belongs to you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then I left.<\/p>\n\n\n\n When I reached home, Carrie and Meredith were sitting on the front porch with homework spread across the steps.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Carrie had a pencil tucked behind one ear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Meredith was arguing with her about a math problem.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019m telling you,\u201d Meredith said, \u201cthat is not how fractions work.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou\u2019re old.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThat is not a mathematical counterargument.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Carrie looked up and noticed me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDaniel?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Something in my face must have frightened her because she stood immediately.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Meredith did too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat happened?\u201d my sister asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I sat down on the porch step.<\/p>\n\n\n\n For a moment, I couldn\u2019t figure out how to say it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n How do you tell people who have spent years preparing to lose you that the funeral they feared isn\u2019t coming?<\/p>\n\n\n\n Carrie sat beside me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDad?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n That word nearly finished me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I looked at her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cKiddo, I have some news.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Her face tightened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBad?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I smiled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cVery, very good.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Meredith stared at me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat did the doctor say?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I reached out and took both of their hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019m not dying.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Neither moved.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Meredith blinked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI was misdiagnosed.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She stared at me as though I had started speaking nonsense.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Carrie\u2019s forehead wrinkled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSo\u2026 you\u2019re better?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I laughed through my tears.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNo, sweetheart.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I squeezed her hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI was never dying in the first place.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Meredith covered her mouth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then the tears came.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Carrie stared at me for another second.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Suddenly, she threw both arms around my neck.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I hugged her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Meredith joined us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n For a while, the three of us simply sat there crying and laughing on the porch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Finally, Carrie pulled back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHow long are you going to live?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She frowned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThat\u2019s not helpful.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I smiled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHopefully long enough to embarrass you through high school.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Her eyes narrowed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHow embarrassing?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cProm-date interrogations.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She groaned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDad.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cPossibly dancing at your graduation.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI have moves.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou absolutely do not.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Meredith laughed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I pulled them both close again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And for one impossible moment, I could almost hear Natalie laughing with us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I still had things to face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Medical reviews.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Legal questions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Anger I had not fully processed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A decade I could never get back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Learning that I wasn\u2019t dying did not magically erase what those years had cost.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But that evening, sitting beside my daughter, I understood something I had never allowed myself to imagine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I had a future.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Not borrowed time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Not a handful of remaining months.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A future.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There were unopened letters in a shoebox upstairs that I might now get to hand Carrie myself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Birthdays I might attend instead of writing toward.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Graduations I might sit through.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Arguments.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Holidays.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bad report cards.<\/p>\n\n\n\n First heartbreaks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Ordinary Tuesday dinners.<\/p>\n\n\n\n All the small, imperfect days I had once believed I would never see.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Carrie leaned against my shoulder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n After a while, she said quietly,<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cGood.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cGood what?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She smiled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWe weren\u2019t finished with you anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n And for the first time in ten years, neither was I.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Part 1 \u2014 The Life I Thought Was Running Out For ten years, I lived as if there were an invisible clock counting down above my head. I was thirty-eight when I sat in Exam Room 3 watching Dr. Weller study my medical chart with an expression I couldn\u2019t quite read. The fluorescent light overhead …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":21195,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-21194","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/cehre.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21194","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/cehre.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/cehre.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/cehre.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/cehre.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=21194"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/cehre.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21194\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":21196,"href":"https:\/\/cehre.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21194\/revisions\/21196"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/cehre.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/21195"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/cehre.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=21194"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/cehre.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=21194"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/cehre.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=21194"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}Part 8 \u2014 The Life I Thought I Would Never Get<\/h2>\n\n\n\n