My mom picks me up from the airport, and we drive straight to the hospital where my dad is waiting for us. As soon as I breathe in the cold Columbus air, I want to turn around and go back to Australia. I miss it already. I feel like I’m being pulled back to it, even from this far away, and I don’t think it’s just because it’s a balmy summer there and the icy dead of winter here.

My mom fills me in on the way. I learn that Millie’s surgery had gone well, better than they hoped even, but things took a turn the second day she was back home. She had a bad fever and chills, which she dismissed as post-surgery exhaustion. Eventually, my Mom called the doctor, just to check and see if Millie’s symptoms were normal. They ended up rushing to the hospital because the doctor thought it sounded like Millie had a blood infection, which she did. The infection overwhelmed her body, her blood pressure dropped so low that the only way to stabilise her was to keep her overnight and for a couple of days.

Mom retells it with a shaky voice.

‘She’ll be OK,’ she says, and I don’t know if she says it more for herself than for me.

‘Thank God you called the doctor,’ I say, gently placing a hand on her arm.

Mom starts to cry, which pulls me out of the reverie I’ve been living in for the past twenty hours. My flight to Dallas, my connection back to Columbus, I had remained perfectly stoic the entire time. I watched movies that I didn’t pay attention to and could hardly remember the plot of. I read and reread the same chapters of my book. Now, sitting in my mom’s old Toyota Highlander, I feel my veneer start to crack.

‘I bet it was so scary, Mom,’ I manage to say, although I’m starting to sniffle. I start to cry. She reaches over and squeezes my hand.

‘She’s doing better now. Her blood pressure is back to normal, and she only has a low-grade fever.’

I feel some of my terror start to ebb, but I know I won’t feel relieved until I see Millie myself. ‘That’s good. Is she resting? Can I see her when we get there?’

‘She might be asleep, but we can go in. Visiting hours are from nine to six and . . .’ she pauses and checks her watch ‘ . . . we should arrive right at nine.’