Long nights

I do not like my daughter vomiting. I do not like staying up all night because I hate the feeling of waking to hear her vomit. I do not like that I have trained myself to delay responding to her cries, and she is crying because she needs help. I do not like blood in her vomit. I do not like blood in her stool. I do not like middle-of-the-night platelet transfusions for said blood. I do not like my heart pounding in my chest, pretending to sleep because I am so scared as they set up her transfusion with flashlights. I do not like that she refuses to eat. I do not like that her feeding tube was not in her stomach where it should have been, but instead is being snaked through her intestine towards her colon. I do not like that this could have been the reason she was so ill. I do not like that they moved it, and she is still vomiting. I do not like myself very much right now because I have been adequately prepared for this, and I am still frightened.

I do not like cancer. I do not like chemotherapy. I do not like this.

My daughter has adult cancer and I am acting like a baby. Nobody said this was easy. Everyone said it would be this hard.

But I love my husband for taking her around the hospital in the pram. I love that he filled the pram with her toys and protective sheets in case she gets sick again. I love him for giving me a much needed break. I love him for being such a great dad.

Breathe.