For Robyn.

I asked the technician at Dana Farber if I could sip my contrast + crystal light in a little room separated from the rest of my unfortunate sippers. I didn't want them to see me fall apart while waiting for their own bad, good or stable news. Already emotionally charged as I waited for what would ultimately be good news about my own scans, I called Lauren. "She's gone" I whispered over the phone. We both sobbed, inconsolably for a length of time that doesn't have a unit of measure. Lauren was right there with Linda and me when we decided that we needed to save Robyn's life. So many people decided that we needed to save Robyn, that there really could be no alternative. It was going to be a beautiful story about how we all joined forces, doctors, families, friends, strangers, the entire world of science and a whole lot of hope, to create a bonafide miracle in order to save her. And we tried... so hard... all of us. And she tried even harder. Lauren and I wept together as we tried to process the magnitude of this loss, only to come to the conclusion that it's horrific. The end. Linda should have been here. The End. Robyn should have never been sick. THE END. In the words of her favorite doctor, "Let her rest. Such a brave girl. She is now safe with her mom. Away from this battle. Let her rest."