Every Friday for years, the needles took up most of the Smiths’ day.

Out the door they’d go by 6:30 a.m. each morning, driving south to Children’s Hospital Los Angeles.

Then, Violet, 10, and Ian, 8, would sit in a hospital room with a daunting IV before them, ready to help them, even if it’d bore them. They’d decide that day where in their bodies the needles would go.

They were retractable and could be inserted in the smallest of veins in their little bodies. Violet always went with the back of the hand, where there were the most veins, while Ian might pick his elbow.

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