I learned last week that the daughter of a friend of mine, not one of my inner circle, but a friend nonetheless, is very sick.
She is 7...SEVEN. Just 6 months younger than The Girl.
My heart is breaking for my friend.
Sure, you hear about people with sick children and you feel bad, hile at the same time, you feel blessed that it is them, not you. You know you would be scared and devastated if it were your child, but it doesn't really TOUCH you.
This is a little girl I know. She is spunky and funny and fabulous.
She is ill. Ill in a way that makes her mother, one of the most down-to-earth, rational people I know, unable to type the word ~which is why I haven't, it is for her mother to say first~ so instead she types the details of the surgery and in this manner, we are able to deduce the diagnosis.
This TOUCHES me.
This makes it so real. Because while I don't for one second, mean to imply that I am feeling even a fraction of what her parents are, this is no longer, "I'm glad it's not my child," ...even though I am...glad it's not my child... in a way it is...because I know her... it is real.
Luckily, prognosis is good. She was diagnosed on Monday, admitted to the Big Research Hospital on Thursday and had a port put in, bone marrow extracted and her first dose of medicine administered on Friday. Prognosis is good, but she and her family have a very long haul ahead of them.
My heart brakes for them and yet I am so eternally grateful that it is not my child who is ill.
Please pray for Sweet E.