When I took the gripper needle from her port a few days ago, she looked at herself in the mirror for the longest time.

Underpants only and a small puffy body, she traced the length of  the red scar line.

She regarded the reflection and then looked up,

“Mummy,” she said as her fingers fluttered up to her her chest,

“now I almost look like a normal girl.”

I hugged her tightly, I  did not know what to say

but the nurse who replaced the lumen an hour later  said it perfectly, after I had relayed her comment:

“You’re better than normal. You’re Ivy.”