Emerg-en-C(e)...

Glub.

We're emerging from the goo, the ick, the whatever you want to call it.

I hate, hate, hate upper respiratory bugs with a passion.

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At least the house is (Clorox-ed within an inch of its' life) clean. And the laundry (previously beset with germy goo) is done. Like empty baskets, done. This should be worthy of trumpets and public service announcements, parades, and...of course...chocolate. 

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Did I mention I have a love/hate relationship with the Children's Emergency room? I mean, I love that they are there. But I really would like to go a season without seeing those lovely people. Josiah had what I thought was the croup. He sounded awful, but it was all good. And then all of the sudden, Thursday night, he turned. Just like a certain daddy of his. The most unholy sounds coming out of a four and a half month old. Needless to say, I got myself to the ER right away. They met me at the double doors and took him into trauma (he sounded that bad!)- usually you have to sign in, fill out paper work, you know, the red tape parade. Not this time. Straight back. The nurses and doctors were reacting quickly. We were beyond suprised when his SpO2 levels came back at 96%.  We all sort of sat back and went "oh!" and me, I was thanking the Lord that everything was "fine", for the moment, because when Daddy sounds like that, his oxygen saturation levels are usually bottoming out in the low 20s! A couple of x-rays, monitors, and the whole kit and caboodle later, they really think that he did not, in fact, have croup, but did, it appears, have the same sort of nasty (rare) asthma that his daddy does. I confirm that diagnosis- the symptoms are too eerily similar (and scary). I am thankful that he is okay, but yet bummed that he is going to have to deal with this for the rest of his life. The diagnosis, thankfully, isn't going to be a huge change for us, since we already deal with Daddy's asthma on a daily basis- the line for the nebulizer is just going to get a bit longer. 

Father Tim (of Mitford fame) says that he is quite convinced that Paul's thorn was diabetes. I beg to differ. At least for our family, it is plain to see that our thorn is definitely upper respiratory viruses coupled with constrictive asthma. ~grins~ I was able to finish the series (again) while holding and rocking and nursing and administering treatments...

David had another(!) double ear infection in the goo of last week. It seems like every time we all get the crud, his goes straight to his ears. We're definitely going to have to look deeper into that after the new year- his pediatrician has mentioned putting tubes in- and I am praying we can find a more natural solution.

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Me? I'm popping Emergen-C and praying that the Lord keeps me hale and hearty. I always seem to crash after everyone gets better- I'd like to avoid the whole process all together this time! 

I figure, a good nap and some hot chocolate (made with goat's milk, of course) and I'll be alright. 

I won't even think about all the Christmas stuff left undone- Isaiah's birthday is Thursday- and just smile and admire our (partially-denuded) tree. 

Be back soon! (I hope.)

Comments

[Kelly]

Oh, I HOPE you can avoid this virus - it's a mean one! My husband and daughter got it first, and I pumped and pumped my supplements and C - but it got me anyway. Two and a half weeks later, I'm still hoarking around the last of it - blech! Glad your baby was okay!

[Sandi]

Wow, more on your plate. Sorry to hear that little man will face asthma...not fun.

I've been reading in 1 Peter 1 (my favorite place to stop right now). I have been meditating on that undefiled, unfading , imperishable place full of living hope. It blows my mind that there is such a place as our experience here tries to tell us otherwise. I am trying to learn to rejoice because of THAT no matter what is on my plate. A work in progress!

I read this quote in a much loved book I am reading right now.

"The still dry air of the desert brings the sense of hoplessness that is crucial to the spirit of prayer. You come face to face with your inability to live, to have joy, to do anything of lasting worth. Life is crushing you.

Suffering burns away the false selves created by cynicism or pride or lust. You stop caring about what people think of you. The desert is God's best hope for the creation of an authentic self."

The Praying Life by Paul Miller

He isn't talking about the desert as a place without God but that place where you are so desperate you really let go.

I really am typing this all out to process myself. your post brought this to my mind. Hope you don't mind :o)

This is truly not our home nor our real joy and that is helping me find strength and rejoice in the things I am facing that could easily crush me.

Blessings as you'll recover and praying (for real) that you don't get it and trusting God's provision if you do.

Sandi

[Joy]

I love that quote Sandi...I have definitely found that to be true over this last year. You know what amazes me? The peace. You know, things being crazy and all...but I can truly say that it doesn't 'ruffle my feathers' anymore. I used to get so worked up, I had horrible insomnia, so worried, full of anxiety. It's like God had to strip every last vestige or appearance of 'control' away for me before I 'got' it and I truly trusted that He was in control, so that sentence "where you are so desperate that you really let go" resonates with me.