Our family’s been on a dizzying carnival ride of illness lately. We just pass it around, from one house member to another, and back again. No amount of bed sheet washing or deep bathroom cleaning has kept the bacteria from roaming around in our heads, throats, and stomachs. We seem to be well, then someone’s body starts up again with the symptoms, hops on while the carnival taps his piano, and joins the sick ride all over again.
Multiple doctor visits – and one hospital stay – have taken up a great deal of time, and made it even more difficult to get the rest we all need.
True confession: I hate, hate giving my children medicine, and I hate taking it myself.
But with the very high fevers we’ve had around here lately, and after the lukewarm bath and the loose clothing does very little, I’m thankful for the medicine that brings down fever.
During a recent sleepless night, I thought about the moms who don’t have – or at some time in history didn’t have – the advantages of modern medicine that we have now.
And I wondered what that must be like.
And I thought about our last visit to the doctor, where, after our appointment, I walked a few yards from one part of our medical facility to the other to retrieve medications for myself and my child from the in-clinic pharmacy. The total price of these drugs?
Less than $10.
I don’t know if the new health care legislation is going to help or hinder access to good physicians like ours. And I have no idea what will happen to the price of medicines needed to save lives and help sick – really sick – people get well.
But I know this:
My inner (and prayerful) laments about my own sick children, long waiting room waits, and me being a fatigued and less-than-stellar mommy, are best turned into prayers of gratitude. Gratitude for the health care, gratitude for medicine, gratitude for those who’ve researched medicines that keep many people alive, and gratitude for drugs that cost less than a ticket to the movies.
Ultimately, gratitude and humility before the God who allows all these things to be.
So, if we continue on this carnival ride, I’ll do my best to hop on with an attitude of, well, you know, and just listen to the music with a smile on my face – most of the time.
Until that clown’s done playing.