Some people

There are some people who walk into the room, you hear them say “Hello!” and you feel lighter, happier, like the evening just got better. And it’s even better when they accept the invite to stay for dinner — showing up is their talent, and they always do.

My sister-in-law, Anna Beth, is one of these people. She will be 23 minutes late, but she’ll be there.

This story is about hand, foot, and mouth. Parents just slammed their laptops shut, swiped up on the browser on their phone, and are wondering if they have my address so they can come tell me where I can shove my stupid, little blog.

HFM is a virus that is common in children. Our daughter got it for the first time the week our son, James, was born.

One night after a late-night feeding the newborn, my wife and I were climbing into bed when we heard coughing from our 18-month-old daughter’s room.

The coughing turned to what sounded like a seal being given a root canal.

We ran in and she was sitting up hacking and between coughs, trying to breathe. But when she couldn’t she’d flail and then try to cry.

She’d gotten a little train whistle that day, and I thought she’d swallowed it. I picked her up and started popping her on the back like I learned in infant CPR class.

We realized she wasn’t choking, she had croup.

“Which ER is closest?” my wife asked.

“Tennova but it’s about the same as Children’s,” I said.

The bag we’d taken to the doctor for my son’s birth was still open by the door, I grabbed it and chucked some diapers and wipes in. I grabbed James while Emily tried to calm Abigail down.

My prayers driving down Tazewell Pike to 275 were all “Why?” and “Please don’t do this to us”— angry things with claws.

When we pulled into the hospital parking lot, I could smell the rubber burning on our Subaru tires.

Abigail and Emily got checked in while I had James in a stroller. When they went into the back, it hit me that a newborn shouldn’t be in an ER waiting room.

I told Emily as James and I pulled out of the garage.

On the ramp onto I-40, I could see the children’s hospital on the opposite hill. I imagined my wife and daughter sitting in there, my daughter crying, Emily trying to comfort her, and the loneliness you feel as a parent when you hit another problem you can’t just fix.

“Hey,” Anna Beth — my sister-in-law — picked up the phone. It was 11 p.m. but she was still awake.

“Abigail is at the hospital, she had some awful cough thing. I can’t be over there because I’ve got James. Emily is with her. Could you go over there and sit with them?”

“Sure, Children’s?”

That was it.

My wife said Abigail got really excited when her Aunt AB walked in.

When Emily texted me that, my eyes stung, and my prayers changed after that “Thank you.”

She showed up and played with Abigail while the steroid kicked in.

Anna Beth is getting married today, and I hope she doesn’t read this anytime soon. But I wanted you all to know how much she means to us, and how much I hope you have someone like her in your life.

Even if they are always 23 minutes late.