I've done so much alone, but not alone

Sitting in the hospital next to ones daughter, with an adorable young doctor crying while typing in her pass-code is something one does not easily forget.

My daughter looked at me and said "Mom she's crying."

I remember thinking so many things but nothing came out of my mouth. I just looked at her, watched the other doctor frantically answer pages, and run in and out of the room; I could not speak. I could not even cry.

She pulled up the X-ray that they were so frantically talking about us needing to see.

These doctors told us oncologists were on their way to meet us. That it looked like cancer and we needed to see the oncologists.

My daughter and I, alone, sat there astonished looking at this x-ray of her pelvis. I said ignorantly and loudly "Where's the bone over here?" while pointing at the big empty spot on the right side of the screen.

The young doctor just started wiping her tears even more.

The older doctor started apologizing for his candid behavior earlier in the day. I remember saying "Don't ever apologize to me for cracking jokes."

My daughter looked at me and said "Mommy I'm scared"

I looked around the room for answers. For someone to tell me what I was supposed to say to her. No one. We were alone. Two panicked doctors. A Mom and her daughter, just looking at each other.

I took a breath it felt like I was trapped between two metal walls. They were pressing painfully on my body restricting even blood flow.

I still had no idea what to say.

Then two other doctors came in the room. They were wearing white lab coats. They were telling us they had seen her X-ray and were checking us into the 10th floor oncology unit and that room one was open. Honestly they were a blurr, and their voices were far away as if talking through this metal that was crushing me.

I finally said "I need to call her father"

Somehow through my choked sobbing he understood the words, Doernbecher Pediatrics, room one 7th floor, repeated it, and said he was on his way.

My daughter said she did not want to see his face when he saw her X-ray. So I met him in the hall. Showed him the picture and started crying. I tried to hug him but he seemed so angry and really was not interested in comforting me at that time. He just wanted to see her. Of course he did. I remember feeling so awful for him and how he felt right at that moment. For some reason it was easier to feel bad for him getting the news then myself. Strange how our minds justify things like that.

When we entered the room, they were ready to move us to "ten south" the oncology unit.