2 septembre 2026

I WAS CHOPPING VEGETABLES IN THE KITCHEN WHEN MY 4-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER PULLED ON MY ARM, HER FACE FILLED WITH FEAR AND WORRY. « MOMMY… CAN I STOP TAKING THE PILLS GRANDMA GIVES ME EVERY DAY? »

« I’m ordering blood work. »

His voice was calm.

Too calm.

The kind of calm people use when they’re very angry.

« I also recommend documenting everything. »

« Everything? »

« Messages. Calls. Photos of the medication. Dates. Symptoms. Everything. »

Emma looked between us.

Confused.

Scared.

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