I have a few errands to take care of first,” I tell my sister as I climb out of my car and start the long trek toward the Atlantis, through the hotel’s employee parking lot. “Do you promise?” she demands. “Because Mom has gone crazy and won’t even let me get out of bed. I’m losing my mind here.” “She’s not crazy. She’s just…overprotective. You did have major surgery less than a week ago.” “And I survived it just fine!” Lucy harrumphs. “Just like I’ve survived all the other ones. But we all know it hasn’t fixed anything, that it’s just prolonging the inevitable. And I don’t want to spend the rest of my inevitable lying around in bed when I could be doing things!” It’s a punch in my gut to hear her talk about her own death so flippantly. There’s a part of me that knows it’s good that she isn’t in denial, that she’s fighting this damn disease with everything she’s got. That she’s as healthy as anyone with a severe case of brittle bone disease can be.
