10 - anesthetics
Wednesday will be the 10th time I have had to hold my daughters hand, and kiss her cheek as she slips under anesthetic for another surgery. I doesn't get any easier each time I watch her body go limp and they rush me out the door so they can get the procedure done and move on to the next child in waiting. I'm still finding new ways to cope with the fear, anger and the sadness. I've sat more hours in a waiting room that I'd like to recall, and I've absorbed more information that I ever gave myself credit for. In the beginning, I said there was no way I would be able to remember blood counts, temperatures, and medication doses off the top of my head without having it written down. Now I am a vault of cancer knowledge and the vault is only getting larger.
Friday was our 4th month into treatment. 4 down, 27 (ish) left. I can't wait for the day when Brinley is off treatment. Her strength is slipping away, and when I say strength I'm not referring to her will power. Her legs are the biggest hurdle, and now her hands don't grip quite as well as they did before, she drops a lot of objects because her hands don't work as well as they use to. My biggest heartache comes from her frustration with all of this. She gets upset and angry that she can't do the things she use to, and she doesn't quite understand why. Brinley understands that she is sick, she understands that the countless "big sleeps" and needle pokes are to help her get better, but she has a hard time understand that the inability to function normally stems from her cancer treatments. I try to explain it to her but there is always a challenge breaking down cancer to a 4 year old.
|losing her hair in the back|
|Friday, coloring in the sun, wearing her "Brinley bracelet"|
|The Brinley bracelet|