When will now end?
2009-10-24 - 11:11 p.m.
Sometimes, when I can't sleep at night, I am haunted by images that are not at all images. They're real. And they happen to my muffins. In order to gain "access" to their bodies/veins, it seems we torture them, poking holes in their chests while they squirm and try not to show that, in spite of the fact that they're only nine, they're already growing breasts. Yet, when it's time to shove the needle through their skin (twice, since they have two ports), they scream for their mom who is inches away from their tear-stained face, telling them it's good to be brave. They never want to do it. We never want to do it. But, we have to because we think that,in the end, they will be saved. But, what if it doesn't happen - is it really all worth it? The constant flow of fluids with names that only pass the lips of those with cancer. Idurubicin, cytarabine, etoposide, ifosfomide just doesn't spill out of the mouths of common people. This can't be good. I mean, at least "normal" people know what zantac or hydrochlorothiazide is, whether they take the damn drug or not. We give these kids such a conglomeration of stuff. Real stuff. I mean, it is truly just stuff. But somehow, it makes them better. At least for now. And this kind of stuff haunts me a lot. Because now becomes then and it makes me sad.
