Holding a large-sized vial, the nurse approached my daughter Ashley's bed. 'We've got to draw more blood,' she said. It was the seventh time that day. Ashley was only three and cried every time. I wasn't much better either. 'I'll step outside this time,' I said, trying to hold it together, as my little girl called out for her mother. I'd been just 18 when I had Ashley. Her father wasn't around and I'd been a single mother for much for that time.
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