My Parents Abandoned Me At The Hospital At 13 R…

“Rachel, this is a long-term commitment. Two more years of intensive treatment, then years of monitoring.”

“I know. I want to do it. If Sarah wants to come home with me.”

She looked at me, and I saw something in her eyes that I hadn’t seen from an adult in a long time. Hope, love, commitment.

“Yes,” I said. “Please.”

The paperwork took another week. During that time, Rachel brought photos of her house, talked about the room that would be mine, asked about my preferences for paint colors and decorations. She made plans like I was permanent, not temporary, like I was her daughter, not just a foster placement.

On November 15th, exactly 1 month after my diagnosis, Rachel drove me to her small three-bedroom house on Maple Street. She carried my single bag of belongings, everything I owned in the world, and led me inside.

“This is your room,” she said, opening a door on the second floor.

I stepped inside and stopped. The walls were painted a soft lavender, my favorite color, which I’d mentioned once in passing. There was a new bed with a purple comforter, a bookshelf already stocked with young adult novels, and a desk by the window. On the desk was a framed photo of Rachel and me from the hospital. Both of us smiling at the camera.

“Welcome home, Sarah,” Rachel said softly.

I broke down crying for what felt like the hundredth time that month, but this time they were different tears. These were tears of relief, of gratitude, of hope. Rachel wrapped her arms around me and held me while I cried.

“You’re safe now. You’re home, and I’m not going anywhere.”

She kept that promise, too.

The next two years were hard. There’s no sugarcoating chemotherapy. It’s brutal. But Rachel made it bearable. She drove me to every appointment, held my hand during every infusion, and sat with me through every bout of nausea. She learned to cook all the bland foods I could tolerate during treatment. She bought me soft hats and scarves when I felt self-conscious about my bald head. She helped me keep up with school work through a home hospital program.

But more than that, she gave me stability, structure, love.