Finn listened to pieces of it.
Mostly, he cared about whether insulin shots hurt.
One nurse gave him a simple answer instead of pretending they were nothing.
“A little sometimes,” she said. “But we’re going to teach you how to make it easier.”
Finn considered that.
Then he asked, “Do I still get pizza?”
Shane laughed for the first time all day.
The nurse smiled.
“We’re not taking pizza away from you.”
Finn nodded, satisfied.
For an eight-year-old, that apparently settled the biggest issue.
For the adults, the reality took longer.
Lydia cried quietly after Finn fell asleep.
Not dramatically.
She sat in a hospital chair with one hand resting on the edge of his blanket and let the tears come.
Shane stood behind her with both hands on her shoulders.
I brought her a paper cup of coffee she never drank.
My parents had taken the other children back to the rental house, where a vacation’s worth of beach towels and sand toys still waited as though the day had never changed.
