Fighting cancer, one cold at a time

My little lamb has a fever; 101 degrees. She is morose, she is cantankerous. Her head is full of what I can only surmise is about two gallons of green ooze that is regenerating at a shocking rate.

Her eyes are glassy, her face chapped, her body warm. She does not want to eat, she does not want to sleep. She does want to play, sort of.

She can't be bothered with being held, she still has too much to do. But I am not allowed out of her sight, not for a moment.

I am sorry she is feeling so crummy, it always sucks to feel so sucky. But I also am confident that this little cold will make her stronger. I am armed with medical research this time. Childhood illness such as this? It helps fight pediatric cancer.

And so I walk with her. I rub her back and I lay her in her crib, despite herself. I tell her it's for her own good, she's getting stronger, she's building up a defense against the really, really bad bugs.

That's what I tell myself over and over and over again.