I’ve said it before, “My life is not my own.”
Early Sunday morning I thought about the day ahead and then the phone rang. My daughter from up north was calling. I said, “Oh, no.”
Because of the time of day, I rightly assessed the nature of her call, it wasn’t good news. She didn’t ask for my advice but when I heard my young grandson had another fever of 103 degrees Fahrenheit and the pain in his legs from five days ago had now turned into him only being able to stand on his tippy-toes, I told her to take him to the hospital with the best care for children. Her pediatrician agreed, so off they went.
Many years ago one of my sons’ needed to see a specialist for a problem and the doctor told me he didn’t need to see a pediatric specialist. “We’ll just watch it for a while.”
I felt uneasy about it, but I trusted him. Two-three years later, the office hired a pediatric specialist. He told me my son needed an operation. Cosmetically it ended up helping him, but internally and functionally his body had adapted to work around the incorrect configuration. Once the doctor fixed the structure, the body ignored the repair and worked as it always did, imperfectly. “He needed this operation two-three years ago,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
So we’ve dealt with it and moved on.
Last week my grandson had been diagnosed with the flu by his pediatrician, sight unseen. At the hospital, they said it was a virus and his body’s immune system sent enzymes to fight it. They were too high, although not alarmingly off and he was dehydrated. So they monitored his enzymes overnight and gave him an IV to get his fluids up.
As soon as I heard about it, I told her I’d drive up. We asked people to pray. I’ve found this Bible verse true more than once in my life: Philippians 4:6, (KJV): Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.
Php 4:7 And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.
My husband and I rearranged what we could of our schedules. The dr.’s told her the virus could affect individuals in various ways. That night, her oldest son’s digestion erupted and the three adults in the house pitched in to clean up the vomit.
I was the first on the scene, so whenever we babysit and something like that happens I always tell her “You owe me,” and sometimes I add, “big time.”
Her response varies from a laugh to a smile or a comment. Yesterday she said, “I know it!”
We only saw them for about half an hour once they got home in the afternoon. My husband needed to be at work.
When my grandson came in pale and shaky and still on his tip toes a bit I almost started crying. My husband told him to flatten his feet out and he worked at it and then smiled as he regained total balance.
I guess he slept from the afternoon all the way through until morning. The oldest finally got his stomach to settle just after we left.
I’d been doing laundry and cleaning and bringing him water with advice to take it slowly –which he ignored the first time. His poor tummy. I tucked blankets around him and felt his forehead for fever. His grandpa went to buy him ginger ale.
When his mom got home, she sat close to him and I gave her the watered-down ginger ale that I’d swirled to get the bubbles out of.
She fed him a teaspoonful and got close to look in his eyes. She spoke softly and they seemed to be closed off from all the rest of us. I could sense him relaxing. “Mom and my brother are home, all is well now,” radiated from him.
It was so hard to leave. We haven’t seen them in a while. Yet, I’m the one who invited my husband which knocked a day off of our availability.
He took her some pajamas and stuff into the city in the dark of night. I hadn’t thought of that when I asked him to accompany me.
He’s the kind of dad that listens to his kids, so I’m sure she found comfort in him showing up. She said she was glad he made it there, too. She was just trying to figure out if I could extend my stay. I had an appointment today, so that’s the way it goes sometimes.
I’ll see her before too long if my time doesn’t get hijacked again. I make plans and then adjust them when life rears up with an alternate scenario.
I wonder if my son’s misfortune happened to prevent my grandson from going to the wrong hospital and ending up with kidney damage. Only God knows.
May God bless you this last week of February.