My parents refused to pay $85,000 to save my son…

After we hung up, I sat in the dark of my studio apartment and cried. How had it come to this?

How had my family become so blind to what was happening? My son was dying, and they were worried about bridesmaid dresses and seating charts. Ethan’s condition continued to decline.

The experimental treatment was no longer an option. We had missed the window. The doctor shifted to palliative care, focusing on keeping him comfortable.

Every day I watched my son fade a little more, his bright spirit dimming along with his physical strength. He stopped asking when he could go back to school. He stopped talking about wanting to be a scientist when he grew up.

He knew, in the way children somehow know, that he was running out of time. I took a leave of absence from teaching to be with him. My principal was understanding, but it was unpaid leave, which meant my already precarious financial situation became catastrophic.