Sunday thoughts on Tuesday

I've been sick for quite awhile now.

I was on antibiotics for a sinus infection, but it didn't clear up. My doctor put me on Cipro to try to knock it out. I started taking it on Thursday evening, and on Saturday morning I woke up to a rash of hives all over my stomach. I immediately called my doctor. His office was closed, but he returned my call and told me to discontinue the Cipro (already done), and take Benadryl every four hours.

By Saturday afternoon, my right hand was swollen like a water balloon and the rash had spread to my thighs. I called my doctor again and he said that the medicine takes awhile to clear the system. I was to continue the Benadryl regimen and go to the ER if I had any difficulty breathing (!).

On Sunday, the hives had spread all the way down to my feet and hands and they had gotten so big that in some places it looked like one giant hive. Both of my hands were swollen and I could barely move them. My whole body felt like it was burning and itching and everything hurt. Strangely, my cough (the sinus infection had morphed into bronchitis) largely subsided.

By Sunday evening, I honestly felt like I could not go on. I could not get comfortable in any position. I could not remember ever feeling so sick. I couldn't really imagine not being sick anymore. Marc called our home teacher, who came over immediately so they could give me a blessing. After the blessing, we decided to go to the ER.

The ER doctor wanted to give me 3 medications by IV, but my hands and arms were so swollen, they couldn't find a vein so I had to have the IV in my thumb! That was a painful first.

After receiving Benadryl, Pepcid, and Prednisone by IV, they examined me and determined that the hives looked to be subsiding somewhat, so they sent me home with orders to continue the three drugs orally for three more days. Oh, and to watch the rash carefully because it could develop into a life-threatening one requiring hospitalization! Good grief.



I wasn't really feeling any better. I was, to be honest, despairing. But here's the good stuff: throughout the truly miserable weekend, the only thing I could do to gain any peace at all was to turn to the Lord in prayer. I thought of anything at all that I could be grateful for. I was grateful that my cough wasn't bothering me very much. I was thankful that Max was willing to be home and put Eva to bed and take care of essential things (Marc was at the Sundance film festival until Sunday). I was thankful for Benadryl.

I was thankful that Jill came over and brought soup and croissants and cleaned up the kitchen.

I was thankful for a sweet neighbor who brought a bag of oranges and cough drops.

I was thankful that Marc was home and could take care of me and go to the pharmacy.
I was thankful that normally I have hands that work and allow me to do all kinds of work and things that I enjoy. But mostly, I was thankful for the Savior and his sacrifice and marveled again and again about the pains he must have borne on our behalf.

I had to keep doing it over and over, but you know what? It really helped! Those prayers sustained me when nothing else could.

When I woke up yesterday, the Prednisone had kicked in and my hands weren't swollen anymore. I could use them! And it felt like a miracle.

Throughout the day, the hives started to recede and fade. They still itch like crazy, but they are no longer burning. My cough came back with a vengeance, but in a strange way, I didn't mind, because it was so much easier to deal with than the pains of the previous two days.

I was able to walk and read. I even put in a load of laundry! And I was grateful beyond words.

I still have bronchitis. I am coughing like crazy today. I'm weak and not doing much beyond sleeping and watching Downton Abbey on DVD (thanks, Amy!). But Eva went to school today, which was a huge blessing. And when I went to bed last night, all I could think was: Amazing. Grace.

Sunday thoughts

I've been reviewing my notes from Time Out For Women, and there is so much good stuff in there, I am overwhelmed by it all. So I just picked something that Hilary Weeks shared:


She decided to ask Heavenly Father in her morning prayer each day which one thing was most important for her to do during that day. Most often, her answers were small things, such as emailing a friend or writing a note to her daughter. And frequently, she would discover, after the fact, that following through on that one small act was an answer to someone else's prayer, and a great blessing to herself.

There is a special kind of peace at the end of the day when you know you have done the most important thing you could have for that day. (I would like to experience that!)

Heavenly Father will be as much a part of our lives as we will let him be.

victory!

Once we were back from London, I had to get serious about finding a cello for Max.

I called the most recent shop I had found on one of my walks, the one where I was told that the deposit would only be 350 euros, rather than 500. This time, I was told the deposit would be 1000 euros! What the?

Max and I got ready to go, and I said a prayer on the bus that the shopowner would be kindly disposed toward us and that my French communication skills would be up to par for this transaction.

Jean-Claude told me that because we are foreigners and don't have a French checking account, he would require the 1000 euro deposit. He said that he didn't have any way of reimbursing a foreign credit card, and so would need cash. He was none too pleased that I didn't have proof of our address, either. I explained that the occupants of our apartment change frequently, and thus an outside person pays the bills and receives all of that type of mail. I told him that I had 500 euros in cash for a deposit, but that I couldn't do 1000.

It took some doing, but my prayer was answered.

He took the 500 euro deposit. I paid for the minimum 3 months' rental (even though we will only have it for 2), bought a music stand and some rosin.


All I have is this dumb blurry picture of Max practicing, but I think it shows his excitement. If possible, I think I was even happier than he at the end of it all, as I was beginning to despair. It was a victory for sure.

p.s. I learned some new vocabulary as well: un pupitre is a music stand (also a pulpit); un arché is a bow. Cool.