This morning, I stopped by the doctor’s office because two of my daughters are on antibiotics and I feel perhaps I needed some too. I have had itchy soar throat, coughing and ear pain. When I got there, I was given a stack of paperwork. I filled out my name and and address at least twice and signed my three times. What are all these papers? I was too tired to read all the fine prints. I thought perhaps, I am signing that I would not sue the doctor if my sickness was misdiagnosed and agreeing to pay if my insurance fail to pay? Forty five minutes later, the nurse took me in to record my weight, blood pressure, etc. The room was small and had a sign that said, “Please limit your questions to only 2 as a courtesy to the next patient”. After almost an hour, the doctor came in. He checked my ears and throat, and hear me breath. He spent less than 5 minutes with me. He said, it is just viral infection and I could get well without any medication but since I waited so long, he will prescribe antibiotics for me. He said he will be right back. I told the doctor that my husband and baby is still waiting for me in the car. He asked me to count to 500. Then he came back with my antibiotics prescription and 2 stickers (for the people that were waiting for me). If I wasn’t sick before, I was sure sick by now.
After I got home, I was really tired. My body ache and my head hurts from the sinus pressure. My eyes were heavy, so I dozed off. Unfortunately, Little Chicken wasn’t cooperating. I thought, I need a vacation. However, being a mother, that is almost impossible. We snuggled in bed for a few minutes and then the two older ones came home from school. I got up and started preparing snacks for them.
Later that night, I had fever and was bed resting and all I could think of is the letter that my 8 year old daughter had written to Jesus.
What’s interesting is, she wrote “p/s (To Jesus, if you had read the note, please leave the note open) Thank you”. I had found her note in the car, so I brought it in and left it on the table. When she saw the note, she said, “I know that Jesus did not open my note”. Without much thought, I quickly answered, “Mommie opened the note before Jesus had a chance”. I don’t think that was a good answer.
Perhaps, it was me that wants to see Jesus open her letter. Yesterday night, I really wanted God to lift my pain and make me hip again.