She is the sort of sick that is not life-threatening, necessarily. But life as she’s known it is over until they can force the illness into remission. She’s spent the last two weeks in and out of the hospital, exiled from her children. She is at the mercy of heavy painkillers; days that used to be organized around her toddler’s nap schedule are now oriented by when she is eligible to take another pill. In between spells of agony she is alternately bored and anxious. It seems like there is always something she has to wait for: to see the doctor, to receive the test results, to start yet another round of treatment that may or may not make her well again.