I'm looking on the bright side and I'll wear it like a bruise; I've never loved Elvis and I've never sung the blues

I finally dozed off at 11:00 last night, and finally succumbed to the waiting room sofa, where I slept fitfully until just after 5:00.  I feel smarmy and am in desperate need of a shower, but I'm back in Sami's room and she is resting peacefully post-morphine and valium.  I put on the third Pirates movie for her and that also seems to help a bit.  I feel terrible; she's been crying throughout all her waking hours since she got out of surgery and it's heartbreaking.  I can barely stand seeing the blood and bandages and her puffy face and tears.  I know I'm lucky as a parent to have made it thirteen with a child who has always been healthy and has never been in a hospital save the day she was born; many parents suffer like this regularly and I feel ashamed to complain when I think of them.  It doesn't make this different, though.  If I could take all her pain upon myself I would.