An update on my granddaughter, The Warrior Princess

First the good news: Cassandra and my daughter-in-law are at the Pittsburgh Children's Hospital. The surgical team has given the okay for a liver transplant (there was even discussion of a possible liver resection, but after a final MRI it was determined a resection wouldn't fly).

We're now waiting for insurance approval.

Bad news: the insurance delay is making the entire family, extended family and close friends Nervous Nellies. And then additional information: the aggressive chemo therapy (which has pushed the cancer into remission) has damaged the baby girl's kidneys.

Which means? She is likely looking at renal failure in the future.

I have this sinking feeling we're playing whack-a-mole. Correct one thing and then something equally awful raises its ugly head.

I want to be as courageous as my three-year old grand daughter. I want to be Miss Smiley Face pushing through every dire prognosis, dancing down hospital corridors to Beyonce and/or Taylor Swift, embracing every moment like it's the best thing ever.

But I'm not.

Instead, I'm composing last words for my grand-daughter's funeral, searching the words of others for answers I know I'll never really find. Yes, I'm a bookworm. Whenever I've been faced with the inexplicable, the sort of things you can't get heart or mind around, I run to books. It's just what I do; it's what I've always done, even as a child.

I'm beginning to think I stink at this role as Nan because I never allowed negative thinking when my son suffered a brain injury, was told several times by the medical team that his future--at best--was long-term nursing care.

They were wrong. But this?

My reading list has concentrated on hope, faith, grief and joy, universals that seem to sum up the present moment.

As for Cassandra? She's still dancing. I need to learn those steps.