He glared malevolently at the shining porcelain, and then shook his head lugubriously.

Just some Portland white trash / You confronted your sorrow / Like there was no tomorrow / While the rest of the world only laughed

That's what I said in the first place!

He makes himself look at his daughter's changing body the way he might look at a gouge on his own leg, forcing himself to examine every detail until he's not looking at a horror but a fact; something that needs fixing.