We entered the children’s hospital on a dark December evening. We didn’t bring a child.

Up the escalator to the lobby, to the registration desk for our badges, we made our way through the mazes of floors and elevators until we reached a place that looked like nothing we’d ever seen before: a carpeted hallway, two small couches, and an empty coffee table outside a closed door with no window.

We were not visiting the doctor in an examining room, we learned. There would be no paper-covered table, no swiveling chair, no cheerful posters. We were visiting the doctor in his office itself.

The door swung open, and he shook our hands. “I remember you guys,” he said, smiling. “It’s nice to see you again.” Continue Reading…

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