"It's good talking to someone who remembers they existed before all this," she said.
Jack watched her go. He had spent so many hours looking at the machines around Lily that he sometimes forgot what she looked like running through their backyard with a spray bottle, pretending to repair a spaceship. Nina was right. Every child in that unit had a life beyond the bed number, and every parent carried a hundred small memories that the hospital had never seen.
Late that morning a social worker named Denise Parker came to meet him. She had a warm voice, a practical manner, and a folder containing information about family accommodations, meal support, transportation, insurance assistance, and the complicated system of leave from work that most people discovered only when they could least afford to understand it. Jack assumed she had come because somebody thought he could not pay his daughter's bills.
"I've kept the premiums current," he said before she had finished introducing herself. "I know the deductible is high, but I have insurance through the business. I don't want Lily treated any differently because of money."
Denise set her folder down. "Mr. Mercer, Lily's medical team is making treatment decisions based on what she needs. I'm here because serious illness can hit a family from five directions at once, and nobody should have to figure all five out by themselves."
"I'm not asking for charity."
"Good," Denise said, unfazed. "Because I didn't come with a charity bucket. I came with information and people who know how to use it."
Jack almost smiled. He leaned back and allowed her to explain that some lodging programs offered reduced-cost rooms near the hospital, that parking assistance could be arranged, and that she could connect him with an insurance advocate who would help review claims without interrupting urgent care. She also asked about his daughter outside the hospital: school, support at home, and who would help when Lily was eventually ready to leave.
He answered in fragments, embarrassed by how few people he could name. Mateo would manage the business. Rose would help at home. Lily's teacher could coordinate assignments if recovery took a long time. Jack's younger brother Luke lived several hours south, but they had not spoken properly in almost two years. There was no grandparent nearby who could simply move into the spare bedroom and take over.
"That's a start," Denise said. "We don't need a perfect plan today. We need a plan that can grow."
Jack looked at the folder. "How many fathers tell you they can handle everything?"
"More than you think." She smiled. "A surprising number of them have a very detailed explanation for why they don't need help, and then fall asleep with their shoes on."
He looked down at his boots, which he had not removed since the previous evening. Denise said nothing more about them. She simply pointed him toward a quiet room with a shower and spare blankets, and left the folder where he could reach it.