The monsters will not sneak up on your daughter, they will not take her all of a sudden while she sleeps. They will drag her, kicking and screaming the entire way. She will never make peace with things, not like you'd wished, not enough to allow you to lie to yourself about how horrible it all is.
You will be five months down this road when Emily will decide to try again.
The seizures will have gained variety at this point. Sometimes she'll stare ahead vacantly, just for a few seconds, and her eyelids will flutter. You'll start to count how many times a day this happens, and come to the depressing conclusion that she's having them all the time. They'll add another medication, which will make her feel even more drowsy and foggy at first.
They'll admit her a day before the operation. They'll increase her dose of steroids then, and reduce it again before she leaves the hospital. Eli and Ria will finally make it up to visit. Ria will look pathetically awkward and try to make small talk for a few minutes before leaving and never coming back. Eli wont really try to talk to her at all, this time at least. He will bring one of those magnetic fishing games, fill the small plastic tub with water from the bathroom, and Emily will play with him for an hour until she's exhausted can't go on any longer. She will seem happy.
You'll follow him into the hallway when he leaves, give him a curious look. Whatever it is he's thinking, not even you will be able to read it. (He will come back and visit many times. He wont tell you about his brother without another five years passing and a bottle of some cheap booze being in his system. "He was fourteen. We were waiting for a heart." You wont have trouble reading the pain on his face then.)
You'll find yourself with Gil sleeping on your shoulder again that night, only by then you'll have learnt to take sleep when you can get it, too.
She'll make you start going home every night after the first day of recovery, and send you back to work within the week. They'll discharge her after two weeks, longer than anyone expected. A series of seizures during her recovery, the radiation therapy, and her heightened need for rehabilitative services after this surgery will be the culprits in this excessive stay. They'll tell you that they got a lot of the cancer out, that it was worth it.
The neuro-oncologist will recommend treatment with bevacizumab and irinotecan every two weeks, along with an injection to help reduce her risk of infection, and her usual anti-emetics. It's an experimental approach, and the insurance will fight over it, but in the end Emily will start treatment the day she's discharged.
She'll get her acceptance letter. Gillian will decide to break her lease on her old apartment because nobody is kidding themselves about her going home any time soon, and the apartment you've got in Baltimore is expensive and small and she can stay at "your" place in DC when she's there.
You'll move over Gillian's furniture with her one weekend, and then go with Emily and Zoe to buy the extra furniture you need for Emily to have her own room and Zoe to have a bedroom to use whenever she wants it. It will cost half as much as the temporary apartment did, and you'll all appreciate how much extra space it gives you. You and Zoe will still insist on splitting the rent with Gillian this time.
By the seventh month in, her follow-up scans will look great. The combination of surgery, radiation, and the new meds will seem to have done it for the time being. It wont be a cure, it will never be a cure, but things will look good.
You will start staying in DC Monday to Wednesday, with Gillian leaving on Thursday mornings and returning Saturday evenings. Zoe will transition back to living in her own home, although she'll cover for you some days when both you and Gil need to be in the office at the same time, as well as visiting some evenings and weekends. Your routine will adapt to the circumstances, the urgent need to be around Emily all the time fading as you adjust to her diagnosis.
You'll celebrate Emily's 18th birthday in your new home away from home. Leah will come, her parents wheeling her in this time, watching her like a hawk. It will hurt you to see that. Eli will be there, all sincere and joyful and disgusting. You'll all eat a nice dinner, cut the cake, take way too many pictures, and wonder how many people in the room will still be alive in twelve months.
Emily will work herself to tears several times in pursuit of graduation. You'll be the proudest parent in the world when they hand Emily that diploma. You'll take a thousand pictures of that day too. You'll decide to skip the celebratory meal because Emily will already be tired, and she'll sleep on the car ride home, and even that wont spoil things. You'll finally understand why Emily decided to do it, to create purpose for what remains of her life.
June will be the nine month marker. Again, the scans will be a series of good signs.