Next Stage in Wound Care

J.M.J.

 

 

OK, I just wrote the most pathetic post ever about our appointment today.  Ooohhh, the moans and groans!  Lots of self-pity and stomping of feet, too.   (You may be thankful I deleted it)  So I wrote this one in its place.

Now in my defense, I suppose it was justified to complain.  You see, now that we have reached 'wound care specialist' status, we have reached the top.  Nowhere else to go but here.  If no one else can figure these wounds out, surely the wound care specialists can!  Right? Right?!

Wrong.

Nothing made sense to them, so we are in uncharted territory.  Still. 

But instead of wailing and gnashing my teeth and preparing for another 6 months of wound care with no hope of healing in sight, I have decided to look at the positives.

1)  Fulton really likes the staff at this hospital 
2)  They promised to have suckers that will actually fit in his mouth (we just learned he can't eat Tootsie Pops because his mouth still won't open wide enough)
3)  They are local so we only have to drive 35 minutes to get there instead of 10.5 hours
4)  They use weird things like medihoney, which means they might be open to looking into other natural ingredients to try on his skin
5)  They did NOT prescribe antibiotics
6)  They are generous with their little bottles of saline solution, which Fulton promptly used to squirt every staff member in the unit (with the nurse's prompting, of course)

The fact that Fulton likes going there is key, since apparently we will be showing up there quite often for several weeks or months.  So be it.  I learned today that I need to take all things for what they are and make the best of them - just as Fulton does.

The weather was gloriously cool but sunny today, so after our fruitless appointment we waited outside for my oldest son to pick us up.  I sat on the bench, silently trying not to dissolve in tears, while he squirted a few ants on the sidewalk and chattered about Lightening McQueen and which of his new doctor friends he wanted to squirt next week. 

My eyes were closed, only half focused on his happy chatter, trying to set aside my fears for his health, when I heard him say, "Mooommm! I have something you have been waiting so looong for!"  He was standing in front of me, with that goofy looking grin that only his precious little face can make, waiting for me to play my part in our little game.

"What's that?" I grinned back, leaning forward.

"THIS!" he said, flinging his arms around my neck and giving my cheek a kiss. 

And suddenly everything changed.

Yes.  My boy is in a lot of pain.  And when we are in the throes of bandage changes and ointments and doctor visits that involve a lot of poking, he is 100% in the moment.  But bless his heart, he copes and quickly returns to what every 5-year-old should be doing: laughing, loving, playing. 

100%

And I realized that if we are to get through this current trial in one piece, I had better take a lesson from my son and do the same. 

Sure.  Embrace the pain when it comes, 100%.  And offer it up to Our Lord. 

But when those painful moments pass, do not dwell on it.  Don't let those mental wheels spin out of control with doom and gloom, dreading the next bandage change or the next doctor's appointment.  Instead, open my eyes to the countless joys Our Lord puts before us as consolations and live within those moments as they come. 

Ants and saline solution. 
The promise of a smaller sucker. 
A beautiful day. 
And a kiss on the cheek from a little boy who loves me.

Each of these little things, and countless more today, were gifts from above.  Consolations for embracing the cross He has chosen for us.  Glimmers of happiness to come.  And all of it, proof of His love. 

100%

"In my deepest wound I saw Thy glory, and it dazzled me."
~ Saint Augustine