What happens when you are not the hero: a story of forgiveness
In early 2001, my sister was tired, paler than usual. We didn’t think much of it. Then, months passed, and crimson pinpoints appeared on her skin. My brother and I took turns grasping her arm and snickering as our handprints would appear as red dots just a few minutes later. Symptoms amassed silently, but on my ninth birthday in May, something big happened.
I remember hearing words like “low blood count” spoken …
What happens when you are not the hero: a story of forgiveness
