Things That Go Beep in the Night

This little one is 7 days old. She has retinoblastoma. She is the first child of a loving couple. The first grandchild of loving grandparents. I am tip-toe over her tiny little crib, bent over her tiny little body, trying my best to reposition and re-tape her tiny little IV with what suddenly seem like giant hands. The fluorescent light above her bed shines harshly. She starts crying that newborn meow; her monitor alarms; her IV beeps, beeps, beeps in a cacophony of sounds that could drive the sanest person crazy. Her mother shouts at me to make it stop and then starts to cry. She is tired and angry and scared, and probably some other emotions for which no words exist, some emotions I have yet to personally meet. Because none of this makes any sense: it shouldn't be this bright while you're trying to sleep, it shouldn't be this loud this late at night, and newborn daughters should not have cancer. I agree.