I stared at the documents.
They contained phone numbers, eligibility requirements, and information about insurance appeals.
Nothing guaranteed a solution.
But every page demonstrated how seriously she’d believed my story.
“Meryl said we need the actual diagnosis and treatment estimate before anyone can tell us what’s available,” Skyla continued.
She looked directly at me.
“I know you don’t want to talk about the medical details. But we can’t keep guessing.”
I lifted the first sheet.
Her handwriting covered the margins.
ASK ABOUT SECOND OPINION.
CHECK WHETHER COST INCLUDES FOLLOW-UP CARE.
FIND OUT WHAT INSURANCE HAS DENIED IN WRITING.
“You did all this?” I breathed.
“I couldn’t find the money, Archie.” Her voice wavered. “I tried to think of something I could sell. But even if I sold everything I owned, it wouldn’t come close.”
She reached into the box again.
“Then Meryl showed me this.”
She handed me an old recipe card.
The front explained how to prepare chicken soup.
