“Come on, Lexi! Higher!” shouted Becca. Lexi’s blond hair whipped in her face in the wind as she swung back and forth on the swing set.
“I’m trying!” yelled Lexi. Becca sat watching her friend from her wheelchair, a smile on her face. The ten-year-old red-head had been diagnosed with muscular dystrophy at age three, a disorder uncommon in girls. Her weakened muscles could no longer support Becca’s frame after she turned seven, landing her in a wheelchair. When Becca’s mom called out that supper was ready, Lexi slowed the swing down to a stop. She pushed her friend’s wheelchair to the house, so familiar she felt as if it were her own. 
“After supper,” Lexi told Becca, “let’s draw.” Becca nodded, her curly hair bouncing up and down. Drawing was her favorite thing to do, and she was good at it. The girls ate their supper and went off to Becca’s room to draw. Hearing the doorbell ring, they came out to see who it was. Lexi’s mom, Elaine, had entered, eyeing the small living room. Her eyes lingered on Becca, sitting happily in her wheelchair. She stepped forward.
“Becca, how have you been doing?” she asked innocently, almost like she was talking to a toddler. Lexi sighed, frowning at her mother. She always treated Becca like she pitied her.
“I’m okay,” replied Becca. She didn’t like people who felt sorry for her.
“That’s good,” she smiled. “C’mon Lexi, we have to go.” Lexi nodded solemnly, turning to give Becca a hug. She followed her mom out the door, saying thank you to Katie and her husband. Elaine led her to her car.
“Mom, I really wish you wouldn’t treat Becca like that. She doesn’t like when people treat her differently,” Lexi told her mom in the car.
“I just can’t help but notice how much she suffers. How can her mother watch her suffer and do nothing about it? I don’t know if I could live with it.” Elaine sounded sympathetic, her eyes glistened with tears.
“She’s not suffering,” Lexi said. This was a conversation she and her mom had just about every time she saw Becca. “That’s the point,” she murmured. She knew her mom wouldn’t understand—she didn’t know Becca. But that didn’t mean she should judge her because of her wheelchair.

Muffled voices swarmed over Lexi’s head. She couldn’t hear what they were saying. Colors swirled above her, nauseating because of her throbbing body. Her chest heaved, gasping for air that wouldn’t come. She closed her eyes, hoping to ease the pain. A dull prick poked her arm, and she went limp.
Elaine leaned over the hospital bed to kiss her daughter’s forehead. Tears dripped off her face.
“She’s like ice,” Elaine told the nurse as she held her daughter’s hands. The nurse nodded, her lips tight. She was checking all the equipment hooked up to Lexi.
“She’s under-oxygenated. Her lungs and heart have to work hard to get blood to her extremities.” The nurse turned to Elaine, her warm brown eyes filled with sympathy. “I’m sorry ma’am, we need to do additional testing immediately. It’d be best for you to leave.”
As if on cue, several more doctors filed into the room, grabbing hold of Lexi’s bed. They rolled her out the door, leaving Elaine in shocked silence, trying to calm herself down. She trembled, frozen in fear for her daughter. Minutes or hours later, Elaine didn’t know, someone knew came in. Her husband raced to her and enveloped Elaine in a hug. They hugged for a long time, trying to hold themselves together.
“Do you know anything new?” whispered Elaine eventually.
“Undetected leukemia developed into lung cancer.” A new wave of trembles shuddered down Elaine’s back. “They said she’s stable now, but she’s going to be here for a while,” Jeremy told her.
“Can we see her?”  Elaine asked, finally releasing her grip on her husband. He nodded.

“She slept well, I think,” the nurse told Elaine as she walked into the room. “Trying to heal herself.” It was a week since Lexi was admitted into the hospital. Elaine’s hair was pulled back into a tangled, greasy ponytail from sleeping at the hospital. Her face was pale and her eyes still puffy from lack of sleep and crying the night before.  Lexi wasn’t awake much in the past week except for fluttered eyelids and twitches. Elaine pulled up her chair beside Lexi’s bed, taking her hand. It was still cold, but that was the new normal now.
“How’re you doing, Lexi?” Elaine asked, not expecting a response. She stroked her daughter’s blonde hair. It would be gone when they started chemo.
“Hey, Becca’s coming today. She would love it if you could see the pictures she’s been drawing for you.” Lexi lay motionless but for her chest rising and falling slowly with the ventilator’s rhythm. Her face was white, stark against the blue hospital sheets and the clear plastic on her face.
Jeremy cam in later, trailing Becca and her parents. Becca had a smile on her face as she wheeled in, while the parents shared grim glances and tight hugs.
“Hey, Becca, I’m sure Lexi misses you as much as you miss her,” Elaine told her as she gave her a hug. Becca just nodded, surprised that Elaine treated her like another person. She wheeled Becca closer to Lexi, and began talking to Becca’s parents about Lexi’s latest medical update.
“Hi, Lexi,” Becca whispered, leaning close to her friend’s ear. “I miss you.” Lexi’s eyelids fluttered, so slightly that Becca didn’t notice. She set a handful of papers on Lexi’s bedside table, along with the other drawings she’d delivered earlier in the week.
Becca looked at Lexi’s face. Still pale, tired, and weak looking, but still Lexi’s. There was nothing that could change that. Just before she looked away, Becca thought she saw the corners of Lexi’s lips turn up into a little smile, even under the ventilator mouthpiece. Becca listened to bits of the parent’s conversation.
“How do you guys do it?” asked Elaine in a hushed voice. “Be happy knowing she’ll never be healthy again?” She was trying to be quiet enough so that Becca wouldn’t hear her, but she wasn’t. Becca could tell by her voice that her mother was taken aback.
“What do you mean? She’s perfectly healthy,” said Katie. “And Lexi will be, too.”

Two days later, Lexi opened her eyes. She was greeted by her smiling mother, beaming down at her.
“How do you feel, Lexi?” she asked. Lexi looked at her, obviously fighting drooping eyelids, and tried to shrug.
“That’s my girl,” Elaine said, chuckling to herself. She had finally cleaned herself up after a week at the hospital. “Dead dog tired after a week of sleeping, but it’s no big deal.” Lexi’s eyelids closed for a long time, so long Elaine thought she was asleep again. Elaine sat next to her, reading.
“Mom?” Lexi croaked, startling Elaine. Lexi didn’t open her eyelids. They felt as if they were weighted with lead.
“Yes, sweetie?” Lexi forced her eyes open as wide as she could.
“Do you think I’m suffering?” she asked. Her eyelids closed involuntarily. “Like you thought Becca was suffering?” The words came out as more of a mumble, but she couldn’t help it. Her eyelids refused to reopen, but she waited for her mom’s reply.
“No, I don’t think you’re suffering right now, honey.”
“Good.” Lexi’s voice was fading, but she fought it is hard as she could. “I’m not suffering.” She took a breath. “This is just…” Her voice trailed off until she found it again. “Something to live with.”