Time in hospital can be confusing and scary for children who struggle to understand what's going on and why.
Thankfully, there are unsung hospital heroes known as "play specialists" around New Zealand going the extra emotional mile to help mitigate that.
Surgical mask firmly fixed, Keira's grin was hidden, but her bright eyes gave the game away. As did the way she bounced into the treatment room at Christchurch Hospital.
Today was a "good day" and the 8-year-old clearly loved her play specialist.
"Okay, are you gonna do finger or blood pressure?" Jemma Thomas asked her.
Keira handled both like a pro. Partly, because she was used to being squeezed and prodded.
But also thanks to Thomas and fellow play specialist Rachel Pienaar, Keira's bedside buddies throughout her cancer journey.
"We've both worked with Keira a lot", Pienaar said, smiling. "We love Keira."
According to Keira's grandmother, that feeling was mutual.
"She would not be where she is without them," she told me while scurrying away from the camera. Not everyone wants their 10 seconds of fame.
Then I took it to the source, asking Keira if she was up for an interview with my big red fluffy Seven Sharp mic.
Again, a nod and those bright eyes.
"First of all, what's your favourite colour?" I asked.
"Red," she replied without hesitation.
"But you're wearing all pink?"
"Oh, I just threw this on," she replied, matter-of-factly, triggering laughter from the room.
Then, the harder stuff.
"What does Jemma do to help you?" I asked.
A pause.
"She's helped me with dressing changes... blood tests... when I'm scared," she replied softly.
"What does she do when you're scared?"
"Um, she does something to distract me."
"Does that work?" I asked.
"Yup," she smiled, and I believed her.
As I watched the pair interact, the value of play specialists in hospitals could not have been clearer.
Down the corridor, two-year-old Milan with his cheeky grin and bandaged right hand was just as smitten.
"Buhhh-bills (bubbles)?" he requested over and over as Thomas dipped the soapy wand.
"Would you like any more toys for over the weekend?" she asked his smiling parents.
Providing toys, distraction and comfort is a big part of what play specialists do, but their role is far more complex. Each of the 160 nationwide are qualified early childhood teachers with extra hospital-specific "play specialist" training.
Using their skills to help kids gain a feeling of control — in what could be a terrifying time — is huge.
"There's things happening to them, they don't get a lot of choice," Pienaar explained. "They often don't get the luxury of time to learn about something and at the end of the day children will cope a lot better when they get the chance to have control."
In other words, knowledge is power and comfort.
Four-year-old Saskia was case in point as she played with an IV line and a flush.
"And she chose an IV line of the same colour she had in her own arm and it just comes really naturally to children," said Pienaar.
"We're just here to put it into play where there's no pressure."
Research has shown, Pienaar explained, that the impact of time in hospital could be significant on children — particularly those under six.
Saskia's mother, Carolina Winter, was impressed.
"Nowadays as we understand how emotional well-being is linked to physical well-being and mental well-being, I think having them around for the kids is amazing — to be able to help them process what is going on," she said.
And that support is not just for children.
When a child is having a procedure, play specialists are reading the entire room.
"There's so much that goes on in our heads when we're working with children and their families that you can't see. It's reading facial expressions, it's reading body language," Thomas explained.
"It's generally upsetting, it's often painful, it's often uncomfortable and parents are often not responding to them in the way they would be at home and children pick up on those subtleties. You know, why is Mum crying? Why is Dad here and not Mum?"
For nurses, that help is invaluable.
"They [play specialists] teach us a lot about age and stage and development," said charge nurse Natasha Greer.
"And they teach us a lot about how we interact with children and what we say and how that can be interpreted by a child... so it's always ongoing learning.
"They're a great bunch," she said, smiling. "I wish we had more of them."
The dream result for play specialists? For children to leave the hospital understanding it's a safe space where they come to get better and with tools they can use for life.
"I will say too," Pienaar added, "children have always surprised me with their ability to... in the midst of hardship... still play and still have fun."
"We could all learn a bit from that couldn't we," I replied.
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