[I cherish the moments when the drugs are working.]
It's the wee hours of the morning. Elisabeth has finally given in to rest. Somehow, she managed to defy the powers of that magical morphine + ativan combination. This was her hardest night yet, oh how she tossed and turned and cried! And - as always - I felt helpless.
The harsh reality is setting in that this new shunt might not be the solution. I'm kicking myself for hoping so strongly; I really thought this was it. As I sent Elisabeth off to surgery on Monday I promised her that it would all be over soon - her pain, her agony. Why did I promise her that?
There is always the chance that something miraculous will happen; that she will wake in the morning cured of her ailments - but with each hour that passes, the chance that that will happen gets smaller and smaller.
So what is it? What is happening to my daughter? What comes next?
I simply don't know...
