Tonight I was lying next to Serenity when she put her feet in my face. And the first thing I thought was that I love this girl so much, I even love smelling her stinky feet. There is a nurse at the hospital that, like so many of them, just has a way with children. This particular one is tall, probably in his mid forties, and has long greying hair pulled back into a ponytail. He goes out of his way to talk to Serenity whenever he is on the floor. At first she was intimidated and wouldn’t acknowledge him at all. In an effort to coax her out of shyness, he would ask her if she had stinky feet. Before long she would smile each time he asked and even laugh a little bit. At home whenever her feet are smelly we tell her, “We’re going to tell Irish about your stinky feet!” and she laughs, “No! Don’t tell Irish!” It has become a little game.
She was trying to stay awake so that she could nurse before falling asleep. She had just taken her medicine and so she knew she had to wait an hour before she could eat or drink anything. Every few minutes she would ask to see my watch. Although she can’t tell time she would study my watch intently for a few seconds and then announce, “Not time yet.” I was thinking about how well she (usually) takes everything in stride. She knows there are times she can’t eat because food affects how her medicine is metabolized. For her, daily medicine has become just a part of the routine. Doctor visits, hospital stays, the fact that she can’t do all the things her older siblings can do…it is all part of her life and she accepts it without too much complaint. I am glad, but it is sad to see. And I know that as normal as life is now, we will never again be those people we were before leukemia.