Ginny wept as I held her. “It’s not fair!” she cried, “Why me?” The pain surged through her body, and she cringed as she moved her aching muscles. After a few minutes of tears, she drew a deep breath, and looked me in the eyes. “I’ll be okay, you’ll see.” She stood up, drew her shoulders back with confidence, and smiled again. “I just needed to get that out. I’m ready to fight again.” She took her dose of ten pills waiting for her on the counter, and we went back to doing our school work. She had no other choice if she wanted to live. She chose life, and faced it with optimism despite a greater burden than any twelve-year-old should have to endure.

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