Becky
The mix-up seemed small in the grand scheme of everything else we'd survived that month, which was probably why it hit as hard as it did. Two appointments scheduled at the same time, Micah's follow-up bloodwork and a physical therapy session meant to help rebuild the strength chemo kept stripping from his small body, both set for four o'clock on a Thursday because someone on Adrian's scheduling team had failed to cross-reference calendars properly.
I didn't find out until we were already in the car, Micah buckled in the back, when I called to confirm the bloodwork appointment and the nurse informed me, confused, that we were actually scheduled for physical therapy at that exact time, in a completely different part of the building.
"That's not possible," I said, gripping the phone
