At 1:30 A.M., My Nephew Whispered From a Hospital Bed That He Didn’t Fall Off His Bike — The Doctor Confirmed My Worst Fear

back each afternoon. I drove him, picked him up, made sure he was keeping up with his schoolwork and following the doctor’s instructions for his wrist. Karen called twice a day, and I kept the conversations light, reassuring her that Connor was healing well, that we were having good uncle-nephew time. She seemed relieved, actually, that she didn’t continue reading …