It started out like this:
Just a tonsilectomy.
By the time we got home she got herself dressed and asked for a bowl of pasta.
Night two she was less hungry.
By night three we were in the ER pumping five bags of fluid into her.
Night one was tough.
But by the next day, we thought we were on the mend.
This night was the worst.
Staff that didn't treat her well, pain levels increasing, a doctor refusing to humidify her sore throat, more morphine, an I.V. that fell out, a nurse that yanked out what was left with no warning.
I told her this would be ok. I promised her Popsicles and lots of my little pony movies.
I hate myself right now.