Tate and I popped down to see his regular doc for an 8:15 appointment that went just about exactly as I'd predicted. Tate seems completely fine. It was probably a fluky reaction to virus/dehydration/??? And it will probably never happen again. See the doc if it does.
Swung by the hospital where the paperwork was waiting.
And home by 9am to resume school, which is almost completed for the day.
Gramma is coming for lunch and the trip to Seattle, and Kerry is here for the boys, with an agenda for the rest of the day.
Which, after the discombobulation of last week, seems to be flowing smoothly.
My friend Cutzi has also been having an eventful medical week (or two?) and had some very insightful reflections. You can click over to her blog, Moon With A View, and read them if you like. You'll be encouraged. I promise.
And it got me thinking... well, this whole adventure with Tate has had me thinking. Starting with his appendix last September. That in spite of all the awfulness of it all (worse for him than me, to be fair!), it wasn't really as awful as it could have been.
We've been carried and supported all along. By God, though we can't see Him. And by God as we can see Him in our family and friends and circumstances. Little things, like the hospital having all of Tate's paperwork ready and waiting.
And it reminded me of this verse.
He tends his flock like a shepherd:
He gathers the lambs in his arms
and carries them close to his heart;
he gently leads those that have young.
We really need it.