Dear Nick,

I miss you. Your dad called Emily yesterday and said that you’re okay, but very, very tired. I am so sorry. I wish I could do something. I wish I could crawl into your bed, curl up next to you, and take it all away—the pain, the fear, the cancer. But I can’t. I’m 1500 miles away, so instead, I pray. I pray all day. If I’m not talking, I’m praying. It’s a constant stream of words to God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, Mary, St. Peregrine, and all the angels and saints.

In my heart, I know you’ll get better. The cancer won’t go away, but it’ll be controlled. You’ve said before that this cancer was a blessing because it made you reevaluate your priorities and take a good look at the friends in your life. I know you’ll get better because you’ve been given an incredible gift—the gift of experience that will bring compassion and empathy when helping other cancer patients. It’s too much of a coincidence that the top student in a medical class who just finished interviews for residencies in radiation oncology would get the very cancer he would be treating. It’s too much. God has a reason for all this. I don’t understand His ways, but all I can think is, you’ve been given this experience to make you the best doctor ever. Period. You will understand your patients’ fears and pains with an insight that no other doctor can.

Love,
Holly