"Am I broken?"
At eleven years old, Chelsea lost the use of her legs. It started gradually; her legs felt weaker and weaker as time went by until she couldn't stand on her own anymore. Her parents got her a walker and sent her to physical therapy, but nothing worked. Eventually, she was wheelchair-bound. It was all part of her illness, the doctor said.
Chelsea sobbed into her mom's shoulder when she learned she'd never walk again.
"I'll give you two a minute," the doctor said, leaving the exam room.
"Am I broken?" Chelsea asked when the door closed.
"Oh, sweetie," Eleanor crooned, squeezing Chelsea. "You're not broken."
"Yes, I am!" Chelsea protested. "I can't run anymore…"
Eleanor wished she knew how to comfort her baby girl. "Oh, sweetie," she said again, heartbroken. Chelsea cried her eyes out for a few minutes while Eleanor tried to keep her tears in. She would cry with Parley later. Right now, she had to be strong for Chelsea. If only she knew what to say…