Fall Down and Go Bonk

One of the finest moments in my life occurred when I witnessed my daughter entering this world. What used to reside in my wife's stomach now found residence in a cold room with metal tables, bright lights and Cheap Trick playing in the background. It still seems surreal to me when I think about it.
Now, one-year and some change later, we await another trip to the hospital; one that will find my daughter, once again, in a cold room with metal tables and bright lights, but no Cheap Trick. Tomorrow morning, the doctors will put my daughter to sleep and place tubes in her ears, because nothing else has worked to rid her body of the dreaded "double ear infection". They have continually returned, each time with more force and longevity. So, the doctors deem it necessary to place little plastic straws in my daughter's eardrums to aid her in her recovery.
It seems like life has transpired with multiple instances like the one mentioned above. I (or my wife and I) live one step behind our daughter's issues, keeping us on our toes and always wondering when she will fall down and go bonk once again, only to have us coming up behind her to reassure her that life has not changed... everything will turn out okay. It feels as if I can only anticipate when I will get to breathe easily again.
To a certain extent, I welcome this feeling of uneasiness, of unassuredness. Can I fix my daughter's problems, all of them? No. So I stay one step behind, picking up the pieces when they seem to fall apart, and stopping any catastrophe that I can, in an attempt to make her world less shattered and broken. If that means that I have to wait to breathe later down the road, then I can live with that. As long as my daughter knows her daddy will pick her up when she falls down and goes bonk.