Good patient

Anya did amazing these past two days. Getting her port accessed, spending hours at the hospital, talking with all the doctors and nurses that come by, keeping her access in overnight, and then doing it all again before finally getting her port access taken out. The hardest part is taking the two anti-nausea meds before the chemotherapy. She cries and puts up a fuss that we usually don't see from her. Today we found out that one of them comes in the form of a pill that dissolves on her tongue, and that was much easier for her to take.
The whole thing takes its toll and she has been very tired the past two days. She has her moments of energy and that keeps us all encouraged, but the fatigue has been greater this time around. It was especially evident today at the hospital when she was much less interested in talking to her nurses and doctors. That could also be because she is tired of the whole thing. I know I am. Yesterday, walking into the infusion unit I was surprised at how routine it all felt to me. That it is so familiar feels comfortable, almost safe when we have so many unknowns on the road ahead. At the same time, the mere fact that going to get chemotherapy for my 3 year old daughter has become familiar is outrageous and horrible.