Crohns, Cushings & The Christmas Story

 

 

So, since I'm cheap I have a gift for all of you: A Story!

This month was hijacked by Crohns, Cushings and the fff-fff- I have seemed to start to stutter when trying to even type the ffll..... Let's just say this month FLU by- whew.

It went slower than I thought then all the sudden I heard and saw signs saying:

 'Last minute Gift Ideas.'

 

ME: Wait a minute. LAST minute? What? Where?

Why am I wearing a blanket over my head as I get into Padre's truck in the middle of a storm?

 

Is this some dream where I think I am part of Chief Joseph and his clan walking in the winter to escape to Canada?

 

okay, I got off track.

 

This story starts with a baby. A big baby. Me.

I was under the impression that the Good Samaritan helped someone pummeled and close to death. I now think there is a footnote that says they gave him the flu before they left him on the side of the road.

 

Okay. So I am lying. But I bet they had the flu originate by some bad guy clear back in that time of the Savior's birth and ministry on the earth.

Another false claim I had in mind was that The Samaritan left him in good hands with people who are ancestors to those who invented

Amazon's Two Day Delivery.

 

Seriously now. There is another child that is part of my  Christmas story. Get comfy. This may, or may not, be long.

 

I saw a newborn child with the flu. Okay, that covers it! Oh, wait. There's more! I was so sad for this child. In my mind I thought: "Put a mini mask on it!!! There are germs lurking here that are from the bottom of..... something very deep and bad!

 

The mother was sick. She had the flu. A woman helped the little bird with a bottle. It was almost lifeless- the bottle taken from its mouth it lay wide open and barely moving. The woman, talking about the earlier struggle, said: "When he threw up I about cried. 'That was twenty minutes on each side!' " she shared her story.

 

Pumping at first is REALLY hard. Painful. And then to see it go to waste- she must have been deliriously tired.

The little one was so precious. I wanted to hold him so badly. His little head so tiny.....

But I kept my distance and covered my masked cough beneath my scarf.

 

Fast forward several hours and lots of dry heaving from others around me. I had calmed my lungs down by laying on my stomach and coughing downward, over the bed.

It helped.

 

Then suddenly, I had to go. To the bathroom Like, a Crohns, knee jerk response, had to go. Translation: NOW.

 

Readers, I searched for the call light.

I didn't have one! How does that happen? AAHHHHH!!!! All was quiet. I thought maybe they'd closed. I could go into elaborate detail about trying to sit up, being too weak to put the arm rail down, but it didn't matter cause I was tethered to the wall by an IV.

 

AAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

"Hello?" I croaked, my breathing sounded like bacon in the frying pan.

 

As it sizzled in my throat I pulled myself up to reach for the curtain. I shook it open and there wasn't anyone at the festive desk.

 

Oh, geez. This could get bad. I used my survival skill and scooched down the bed and off! Quick thinking and determination got me to the bathroom and I had to admit that a lot of prayer went into it And someone unhooking me from the IV.

 

During this month and this particular day I had asked: "What am I to learn from this?"

 

I failed to look around until I excited the restroom.

 

Fast forward to the exit. I got out and began to make it back to my bed when I was impressed to look left.

 

There, down the hall,  a group of nurses congregated around an open door. All stood pensive, watching in the room. I was curious as to what was in the room.

I took another step and peered in- there was my nurse on the floor kneeling next to the little head I had been admiring and aching for hours earlier in the waiting room.

 

She was trying to put an IV in his sweet, newborn head. I ached to the center of my self. The nurses seemed to be like the shepherd who first saw the star, all coming to see The Savior beneath the star that represent His Birth.

 

The baby didn't cry out. He was that tuckered out.

 

My pleas changed. They turned to this newborn. I felt a calm. Despite being very worried for this little one and his mother..... I knew it was in His hands. And it wasn't the first time He had taken a spirit's fate in His hands.

 

For just a small window it was just us: The newborn baby and a quiet staff. Oh, and me.

I am glad to sometimes have a time out where I can just think of Him as a little baby, me as a bystander to the.... sacred scene.

 

If I could, I would hold that Little One and rock Him and kiss his sweet head.

Thank you, Heaven, for baby Jesus.