Diva

In the middle of the night I take the elevator up one floor to the intensive care unit, holding a little chemo cooler and a folder marked last name, first. Her room is sleeping, quiet and dark. Tubes breathe for her, taped heavily to the corner of her mouth. Tubes feed her, curved into her nose. I smile as I notice the two puffs of hair on her head that make her look just like Minnie Mouse. I adjust what needs adjusting, give her chemo, and retrace my steps back to the elevator, empty chemo cooler and a folder in hand. Several weeks later I was confused when I saw a bald child sauntering down the hall in a pink robe- DIVA scrawled in rhinestones across the back- enter my little Minnie's room. Then I realized she was my little Minne, just without her hair. Minnie without her ears, but with all her diva.