God's Little Surprises

Yesterday, Tuesday was a long day... filled with appointments... trying to present symptoms that didn't make sense to my doc who just didn't seem to care (of course, it has occurred to me before to change docs, but that writing is for another time). 

Anyway... the story continues... last week, my youngest son, Soren, who is 12, scared us when he woke up very ill.  He couldn't walk, had pain in his back and neck and had a fever and sore throat.  I immediately thought it could be meningitis.  So I rushed him to Vanderbilt Children's Hospital clinic.  After some tests, they found his white blood cell count elevated quite a bit and because he wasn't able to use his legs, it meant that Soren and I were checking in to Vanderbilt's newest Children's Hospital for the night at least... that night turned into three agonizing days of test, after test and lots of prayer.  I held a vigil by his bedside watching him go up and down from feeling better to feeling more punky (my mom's word for sick... perhaps she was really saying pucky, but in my childhood mind I heard "punky" ).  They took him for a CT scan and talked to me and asked if he had taken street drugs and after about 27 docs, residents, interns and nurses had poked and prodded away... his regular pediatrician came down from his office and said, "well, I think we will swab for strep, we've rulled everything else out."  The strep culture came back positive.  I was like... "three days, needles and stethoscopes and you could have swabbed him on the first day?"  Where is a New York Jewish Mother accent when you need one?  Then there was the "duh I could have had a V-8" moment when they finally figured the puzzle out... it was out you go... here's your meds... have a great life... hope you feel better.  Don't get me wrong... the staff at Vanderbilt treated my son great... they are a little shy on parental snacks, but hey... 10th in the nation for treatment of children... I can give up my Starbucks for three days. 

The very next day, Friday, I became ill and my older son who had carried Soren in started to feel ill.  Then last night, my older son was still sick and my temperature started dropping by two degrees... I started throwing up uncontrollably... so called the oncall doc...who says of course..."go to the ER," so I had to drive into the hospital with my son (who is 15, but doesn't have a permit yet) alerting him all the way in about what to do if I should pass out.  Got there... A liter of fluids, some tests, a good looking ER doc, an x-ray and then... "looks normal... we don't know what is wrong... go home..."...they turned us both out again.  I said to my son... "did we order fastserve?"... and "uh... honey... make sure you tell me before I hit a deer."  I think sometimes, they just don't know the answers. 

Tests... symptoms... frustration... another visit to a doc and you come home still feeling like you've been run over by a freight train from Antartica.  Then .... God had a surprise waiting for me when I got home today.  There was a comforting email from my pastor and I have this cat that I rescued from an apartment building last year.  He is the only one that survived of the five that we rescued.  I had to feed him with a bottle and everything.... well he is a tiger calico cat and proud of it!  From the moment he saw me today... he lept up into my arms and just had to sit with me.  But he didn't just sit with me.  He had to nuzzle his arms around my neck, snuggle his nose over and over and over again in my ear, rub his head against my face, in my neck and then against my face. 

When I put him down, if I was leaning forward, he would jump on my back and lay down on my back hugging me from behind my neck, snuggling his head into my neck, or he would jump right back into my lap and climb up onto my shoulders or position himself as if he were saying "you are not going anywhere." At one point, my beagle nuzzled the cats ear and face with his nose kind of like..."hey it's my time to sit with her... " but Jeremiah was not budging (my beagle, Huey Luis, finally resigned himself to his bed).

Jeremiah just had to be with me.  If I went to the restroom, as soon as I sat down again he was back in my arms (all 15 pounds of him).  He would then wrap his paws tight around my neck, lay his head upon my chest and keep his body pressed into mine.  Jeremiah seemed to know I wasn't feeling good.  It was almost as if Father God were relaying a message to me through...  letting me know that I wasn't alone... letting Jeremiah tell me that I was certainly very loved (even competed for) and that no matter what... He (God) was not leaving me.  He (the Lord Jesus) just had to be with me. 

Tonight, my body can't make up its mind... it is either running a fever or jumping off the diving board into an ice bucket, but nevertheless Father God is letting me know that the Lord Jesus has assigned a furry angel to keep me company, to keep a constant watch on my vitals... even to warm me if I get too cold.  But if the two labs, the beagle and the other two cats decide to jump in bed too... well that would be overkill...(thank Father that I don't live in a barn)  Besides... the labs would want the pillow and I'm really partial to my pillow. 

Comfort seems to come from places you may not always expect... but it comes... it surely comes... and with the comfort that you receive you can comfort others (well, I don't really think I am going to be snuggling up to anyone anytime soon... hehehehe... but all in good time Watson)....

I do believe Father God created our animals and our pets as welcome companions... He put a little of Himself into everything that breathes.  When humans aren't available... furry arms will do.

With love,

RamyB