All I can say is I am so glad we had private health insurance because it meant when we were sitting in the waiting room at 6.30 in the morning, nervously awaiting Miss L’s operation, we could admire the fresco. Yes, THE FRESCO. Because a fresco makes up for the fact your child’s about to have her tonsils and adenoids ripped out. It’s calming.

I just wish they spent less on the fresco and more on making the food edible.

Not that Lily minded about the food. She just spent her time trying to consume as much cold, processed Β sugar as possible. When attempting to put my fork into the hard lump of grey Beef Stroganoff (I could lift it off my plate in one lump), I looked over and saw her in five-year-old culinary bliss. She had an ice-block in one hand, a spoon of custard in the other and opened containers of jelly and ice ice-cream lined up in front of her. Seeing that she had just had her throat knifed, I thought that her dinner choices were completely legit.

I was just relieved to see her sitting up in bed, the operation part over and done with. She’d slept, she’d hung out with her new hospital buddies and by the morning she was dancing around her hospital room. I’m not sure if that was the drugs or the extraordinary amount of sugar she’d consumed in 24 hours. She’s much quieter now.

It had been a long day.

I’d forced a smile on my face, when my girl reached out for Twiggy as we rolled her up to theatre away from him.

I’d distracted her from her fear, when she gripped my hand tight as we entered the operating theatre.

I’d held her tiny body, when they put her to sleep and she convulsed, her eyes staring terrified into mine.

I’d held back my tears and stroked her hair and whispered how much I loved her.

But when they ushered me out of the room and into the lift, crying and disorientated, I forced myself to remember why we were putting her through such a scary time. I thought of the photos I took of her on the weekend, the ones I tried to Instagram away her dark rings under her eyes.

I reminded myself of all the times I’ve looked at her pale skin and tired eyes and hoped I could fix her. This has to help her get the sleep she needs, to not be so sickly. It’s got to work.

Thanks so much for all your amazing kindness over the past few days,

bigwords xx