“Who is that man?”
“Oh, that’s the valet. They park our cars for us.”
“Why?” she whispered.
“So we don’t have to walk back and forth.” Nevaeh stared at him as if he were making it up. “Seriously, it’s their job,” he added.
“They have a job to park cars all day? That sounds fun!”
Laughing as we walked into the hotel, Nevaeh was greeted by many guests who came to enjoy her benefit. She was amazed when she walked into the large conference room that was brightly decorated in honor of her. Balloons and streamers hung from the ceiling while glitter sprinkled along the tops of tables and surrounded miniature fishbowls which contained a single lit candle. As I made my way into the room, I was proud to see my family there. Dale had invited them without my knowledge; it meant so much to me.
“Wow!” she gasped, “All of this is for me?” Nevaeh asked.
“It sure is,” Dale answered her. “Come. Let me introduce you to some people.”
For the first time in our almost six-month relationship, Nevaeh and I were getting to meet Dale’s family, including his parents who made a special trip to St. Louis for the benefit.
“It’s so good to meet you,” Rose, Dale’s mom, said. “We’ve heard so much about you,” she said, hugging all of us.
“Yes, it’s nice to put a face with the name,” his dad, Stephen, said.
“I’ve heard a lot about the both of you, too,” I said, shaking his dad’s hand.
“You and Nevaeh will sit with me at the front table. Since she’s our guest of honor, she will sit in the middle.”
Throughout the night, Nevaeh smiled and laughed as she relished in all of the attention she was receiving. I sat back, admiring my beautiful daughter and her incredible social skills. She really knows how to light up a room, I thought. Near the end of the benefit, Nevaeh began getting sleepy.
“I think we should get her home,” I whispered to Dale. “But I don’t want to be rude and have her leave. All of this was held in her honor.”
“Do you think she can make it until the ball drops at midnight?”
“I don’t know,” I glanced over at her. “She looks so sleepy. I’ll try to keep her awake.”
When the ball dropped, I began gathering all of our things to head home. They wouldn’t know how lucky the Nevaeh Fund was until all of the donations were counted. A couple of days after the fundraiser, Nevaeh had her next appointment with the specialist. Once again, Dale drove us to the office and helped us inside.
“Hello Nevaeh,” Dr. Newton greeted her, closing the door behind him.
He faced Dale and me, “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” I replied. “So what did her tests show?” I wasn’t wasting any time, I was all business today.
Dr. Newton thumbed through her chart, read it over and began going over the results. “It looks like her spine has gotten much worse. It appears that the methotrexate alone is not treating her as we’d hoped.”
“What’s the next step?” Dale asked, worried about her.
“What I’d like to do next is try her on a stronger drug. But I must warn you, it can have some severe side effects.”
“What drug and what type of side effects?” I asked, alarmed at the information we were receiving.
“It’s called Humira, and it’s an injectable drug. She’ll take one injection every two weeks, or twice per month. It can increase her risk of developing infections and certain cancers, such as lymphoma, as well as cause skin, heart and liver problems.”
“Is it worth her taking it if that much could go wrong?” I asked, desperately worried about my little girl.
“Most of these side effects are rare, but they are possible. Based on Nevaeh’s labs and her previous health history, I don’t see it being a problem. We’ll keep a close eye on her to determine if and when she begins to develop any issues to the medication. The key factor is communication. If something doesn’t seem right or seems a little off, you call us right away so we can get her back in here.”
Suddenly, I was relieved that Dale had agreed to pay for things. This was beginning to become too much for me to handle.
“When will she have her first injection?”
“I’ll write the prescription for it and chances are, you’ll have to have it filled by a mail-order pharmacy. I assume you already do that with her methotrexate, is that correct?”
“Yes,” I nodded.