'Not me!' cried, the little girl,
My Little Girl's 'neutrophiles' (the blood cells that fight the infection) are on the rise, but still the nurse comes around in order to administer the injection and change the dressing until the 'neutrophiles are above a set level and this is where the heartbreak begins.
The sound of a car drawing up, footsteps tap on the driveway, the door bell rings, the door creaks open, voices are heard, greetings are made. 'Not me!' cries My Little Girl, she knows what will happen. Although the nurse prepares the injections out of sight (so in theory out of mind), My Little Girl starts to shout 'NOT ME', she works herself up into a frenzy, asking, shouting, almost crying from the bottom of her little heart wanting IT to stop. Our hearts start to sink, no matter how good and fun the day has been the realisation hits once again that , My Little Girl is very ill. The nurse comes in, Our Little Girl, starts to thrash, we hold her tight, it's done, over, finished. Then I see the Hickman line once again, my spirit drops, a piece of plastic is still in her body, ready and waiting to allow the delivery of chemo and a multitude of drugs other that might have to be administered or to allow the taking of blood.
No matter how I feel about the situation, the journey my family has embarked upon, how positive I try to be, those two simple, words 'not me' break my heart every time.
To finish on a positive note, 'neutrophils' are going up, play dates need to be arranged, fun needs to be had and it started today at 4.30 am! I think my little girl loves life, she saw the moon this morning, my wife and I thought 'Not us!!!'.
My Little Girl's 'neutrophiles' (the blood cells that fight the infection) are on the rise, but still the nurse comes around in order to administer the injection and change the dressing until the 'neutrophiles are above a set level and this is where the heartbreak begins.
The sound of a car drawing up, footsteps tap on the driveway, the door bell rings, the door creaks open, voices are heard, greetings are made. 'Not me!' cries My Little Girl, she knows what will happen. Although the nurse prepares the injections out of sight (so in theory out of mind), My Little Girl starts to shout 'NOT ME', she works herself up into a frenzy, asking, shouting, almost crying from the bottom of her little heart wanting IT to stop. Our hearts start to sink, no matter how good and fun the day has been the realisation hits once again that , My Little Girl is very ill. The nurse comes in, Our Little Girl, starts to thrash, we hold her tight, it's done, over, finished. Then I see the Hickman line once again, my spirit drops, a piece of plastic is still in her body, ready and waiting to allow the delivery of chemo and a multitude of drugs other that might have to be administered or to allow the taking of blood.
No matter how I feel about the situation, the journey my family has embarked upon, how positive I try to be, those two simple, words 'not me' break my heart every time.
To finish on a positive note, 'neutrophils' are going up, play dates need to be arranged, fun needs to be had and it started today at 4.30 am! I think my little girl loves life, she saw the moon this morning, my wife and I thought 'Not us!!!'.
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