That's what we did. The next day, we packed our eight other kids into the car, ranging in ages from eight to sixteen, and headed to Division 28. Dr. Sallan met us in the playroom. That's where we all sat, on kiddie chairs around the kiddie table. And slowly, quietly, Dr. Sallan explained about Paul and his disease-what it was and what it wasn't. He told them it's not contagious, not hereditary. He assured them that nothing they said or did made Paul sick. He explained that saying "get lost" didn't make it happen. And even though Paul is sick, they'll sometimes still get mad at him, and that's okay. Dr. Sallan thought of everything that could go through a kid's head. He got us through that day. He got us through many days.
When Paul was diagnosed more than 25 years ago, there was little in the way of treatment. Bone marrow transplants were a new procedure, and that was our one real hope for Paul. But who could donate the bone marrow? Everyone in our family was tested, and our second youngest, Christopher, was a perfect match. So we were set. A bed would be ready for Paul after Christmas. We were nervous, but excited. We had hope.
