The mundane

My job can be really tough. I work with children who have cancer. I meet them at diagnosis and am with them through end of treatment, survivorship, relapse, late effects and death. Some days be really really shit.

Today, three separate children were given weeks to live. And I had to sit with parents when they were told their children were going to die. I had to give advice to them about whether to tell their children they were going to die. How to tell brothers and sisters. Answering questions about why them, why now.

Holding the hands of children as poison is pumped into their bodies. Paying guess who to pass the time whilst a strangers blood is channelled into them to keep them alive.

These children are going to die whether I’m there or not. These families are going to through this atrocity whether I am there to hold their hand or not.

So I’d rather be there. I’d rather I was holding their hand than nobody was.

But when three lives are about to be taken away, I can’t help thinking that life can be pretty fucking cruel, and really, my melodrama is entirely insignificant.

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