Page 103 of Don't Tell Me How to Die

“Language,” I said.

“Sorry, Mom.” He squared off with Katie. “For your information, Hunter Wilding, who is marrying Aunt Misty, so he’s practically our uncle, has money up the wazoo, and I was talking to him, and he said I could intern at his company next summer.”

“Doing what?” Katie said.

“Learning how to get rich,” he said. “Currently I have zero money up my wazoo, butUncleHunter said he’d teach me how to make a bleep-load of it. What areyoudoing next summer?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, taunting her brother. “I was thinking about writing a book. It’s calledThe Sad Tale of the Delusional Boy with the Empty Wazoo.”

I cracked up, and Katie joined in. Kevin, doing his best to keep a straight face, came back with, “Laugh now, peasants, but one day I will be president of the First National Bank of Wazoo.”

That opened the floodgates for a round of sibling insults, most of which made no sense, but which were deemed hysterically funny because they all had the wordwazooin them.

Our laughter was infectious, and people around us started smiling, probably wishing they knew what was so hilarious, and imagining we were the happiest family around.

And maybe for one brief moment we were. I felt like we’d broken the logjam of unhappiness we’d been trapped in, and I sat there beaming at my two children who had suddenly been hurled into adulthood.

Katie, who was born with the gift of laughter, knew how to use it to help people heal. And Kevin, who never thought twice about money, had this sudden desire to strike it rich, and I wondered if it was his way of shaking off his insecurities and assuming the mantle left behind by his father.

The two of them had a long road ahead of them, I thought. But somehow I knew they’d be fine. My only goal was to share the journey with them for as long as I could.

SIXTY-THREE

It was the Tuesday morning after Labor Day, and Lizzie and I were standing outside Dr. Byrne’s office waiting for someone to show up and unlock the door.

“Thanks for coming,” I said.

“Are you kidding?” Lizzie said. “You have this adorable habit of hiding the details of your life in a box in your attic. How could I say no when you finally invited me to peek inside? I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be,” I said. “I only picked you because you’re a doctor. Also, I know you, and even if the prognosis is terrible, you won’t say anything that sounds like a Hallmark card.”

“In that case, I’m glad I decided to go to medical school instead of pursuing my dream to study the poetry of Elizabeth Barrett Browning.”

“Good morning, ladies.” It was Dr. Byrne. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “We were early.”

“How was your weekend?” he said, unlocking the door.

“It was good,” I said. “I got to spend some quality time with my kids.”

“Well, let’s take a look at your blood tests and see if we can buy you a lot more quality time. The reports from both labs should be in by now.”

We followed him to his office, and he booted up his computer. “Here’s the first one,” he said, clicking the mouse.

He stared at the screen, scrolled, and finally frowned. “Shit,” he muttered.

“That bad?” I said.

“No, no, it’s just that our lab here at the hospital seems to be off their game. This is exactly why I went to Kensington for a second look. Give me a minute. I’m sure their report is in here somewhere... ah yes. Got it.”

He clicked again, scrolled some more, leaned into the screen, and slowly rubbed his chin. He didn’t say a thing, but I could sum up the look on his face in one word—dumbfounded.

“Lizzie,” he said. “Take a look at this and tell me what you make of it.”

Lizzie went behind his desk, took the mouse, and studied the screen. “It looks like a lab error,” she said.

“Except...” he said, taking the mouse and clicking. “Here’s our lab.” He clicked again. “And here’s Kensington.”