His two-year-old daughter Indie Rose is so fragile, Jai Taurima's lips leave a bruise with just the softest of kisses to her forehead.
The Sydney 2000 Olympic silver medallist and his partner Jen Smith acknowledge they have a week, if lucky, left with their only child.
So on Friday, the man once known as 'Jumping Jai', a pizza-eating, cigarette-smoking, bourbon-drinking, Superman-tattooed, long jumping athlete in his prime, was the life of a much more significant party.
Indie Rose's third birthday is officially May 22, but family and nurses at Sydney's Westmead Children's Hospital dressed up in crazy hats to fit the theme of her early celebration.
''We brought her birthday forward because she's got less than a week to go, I'd say,'' Taurima, who is 41, says.
''We all sang Happy Birthday, Wiggles songs, Dora [the Explorer] songs, she just absolutely loved it. She had an awesome day.
''It's been such a hard road for her, and us, it's an emotional rollercoaster,'' he says. ''Right now, I'm on that part of the rollercoaster where it's at the top, but I'm waiting for it to go back down to the bottom again.'' Taurima has worked with the Australian Federal Police in Canberra since his athletics retirement, a protective service officer to prime ministers John Howard, Kevin Rudd and Julia Gillard.
But most of the past three years has been spent looking over his daughter's hospital bed, after Indie Rose was diagnosed with infant acute lymphoblastic leukaemia at just three months of age.
''We've since found out she was born with leukaemia, it's like one-in-five million or something ridiculous, I forget the stat,'' Taurima says.
Indie Rose has had three intense treatments of chemotherapy and a bone marrow transplant. She was to be the first child in Australia to trial a new leukaemia treatment from the United States, but developed an infection in her lungs only days before it arrived, making her too weak. All other options have been exhausted.
But as Taurima details the heart-breaking story, he maintains a positivity: ''It's our first and only child, it's been really tough,'' he says. ''You get told by the doctors that there's no more treatments they can give her, you cry a river of tears.
''We kind of knew we were at the end of the line treatment-wise. We didn't want the doctors to tell us 'that's it', but we kind of knew. When they did tell us, that's when it hit home that we won't have our little girl for very long.
''It was a catch-22, your daughter can die on a ventilator upstairs in the [intensive care unit], or you can spend the next two or three weeks with her playing and have fun. That's what we decided.
''We're having so much fun. We can't go to the zoo or to the beach, Indie doesn't know what clowns are, but we try to adapt everything around her small room.
''There's lots of singing, dancing, performing every nursery rhyme, playing drums and guitar.''
Ms Smith also works for the AFP and both have taken unpaid leave to care for their daughter.
Since February last year, Taurima and Ms Smith have lived across the road from the Sydney Children's
Hospital, spending up to nine hours a day with Indie Rose.
Taurima says the couple would have lost everything, if not for the support of the AFP and the generosity of family friends in Ms Smith's hometown of Mareeba in Queensland, a group calling themselves the Indie-structables.
''Without them, we would have had to sell our house in Canberra without a doubt,'' Taurima says.
''All they do is raise money for us so they can pay our mortgage …''
The AFP will host a fund-raising cupcake drive on Tuesday at its Barton headquarters.
A thankful Taurima is also motivated by another drive: ''My little girl has had platelet transfusions, blood transfusions - every three days we've been getting them lately,'' he says.
''My whole drive is for people to give blood because there's so many kids and adults that constantly need it in these oncology wards.
''It's easier to win a medal at the Olympics than go through the past two years.
''My little girl can't talk because of all the chemo she's had. The doctors say she's got a lot of bone pain, she's on a lot of pain-killing medication. When you kiss her forehead she can bruise.
''The kids are just so strong. They get smashed by chemo and then can be back bouncing around happy.
''These poor kids, they're in so much pain and have so many side effects.
''It's going to be easier for us to let her go because, being selfish, it's hard to watch your little girl go through that.''
Taurima and Ms Smith have packed up their rented Sydney home, planning for a return to life in Canberra.
Taurima says they want to be parents again.
''We do want to have kids, but we're thinking about fostering kids because we think we can give them a lot of love as well,'' he says.
''The last thing I'd say is just hug your kids and give them a big kiss.''
To donate blood, find details of the Australian Red Cross blood service at www.donateblood.com.au or ring 13 14 95.
To learn more about Indie Rose, go to www.facebook.com/IndieRoseTaurima