Syringe… Heartbeat… Lost… that’s all I can think about today. Because if I think about anything else I start to… NO.

No. No. No. No.

I don’t want to think about it. Any of it. Why is fate so cruel?

I shouldn’t have had to.

No parent should have to.

No parent should have to operate on…

No parent should be asked…

_-_-

I remember the first time I held my daughter. I was unspeakably nervous. Her father was… unavailable… and it was just me. Carrying her, morning crankiness, not to mention my stomach feeling so awkward all the time.

I was so scared but I was trying not to be. No one was there for me and no one was going to be. It was just going to be me flying solo. I moved away had a nursing job all lined up. Things were almost completely worked out. I was going to be under no one’s thumb. With my job I made decent money. And FINALLY it was just going to be me. I didn’t have to feed or help any moronic jerkwad of a man, brother, or wife. All my paychecks were going to be for me, and me alone. And then she came along.

I remember being grumpy at the perpetual money loss and pain and loneliness of my apparent spawn. And then… then I held her. I held her in my arms and she was so utterly vulnerable. If I dropped her that was it and she wouldn’t even be able to blame me.

She didn’t know how to live and without someone’s help she never would. So we grew up together us learning and growing side by side. We became tight knit as close as Rory and Loreali ever where.

_-_-

And now… now she is just as vulnerable. She is stuck to the machines and the incessant steady beep. The drip drip drip is just as irritatingly constant. It makes me irritated that everything is constant. Technically I know and my nurse brain knows that it’s okay constant is good. It’s very likely she’ll recover to some degree… but she’ll never be able to run again, not without her limbs no. No no no no she’ll wake up she has to. She hasn’t lost too much blood no no no she will be okay we’ll grow from this.

Syringe… Heartbeat…Lost…