I had my extra little nurse around here
yesterday. Cailyn was pretty much at my
beck and call. And she was quite
fascinated by the whole situation. Not
that she liked it. She just made several
comments throughout the day that revealed a bit about where that gorgeous head
of hers was. And the comments came at
totally random times. Some were while I
was typing. Others came when I was
resting on the couch or taking a nap back in the bedroom. Check out some of her gems of concern.
The first one was at my desk. She had kind of a thoughtful look about her
as she straightened up some papers.
“DadDad, I’m glad you don’t need a walker like MeeMaw.” Me, too, Cailyn. This is a bit of a different situation than
MeeMaw was in, though. I assured her
that I would get better.
Then came her response, another
classic. “You can live ‘til you’re a
hundred years old, ok?” I overplayed to
that one, mainly to lighten the mood. “A
hundred? That’s a really long time. But thank you for giving me permission. Tell you what. I’ll be OK as long as I get to dance with you
at your wedding.” She grinned and agreed
to that provision.
Later she waxed pensive once again. I guess I was getting tired and sorer and my
countenance was probably reflecting my pain.
She watched me for a few minutes, then noted, “I wish Mr. Robert was the
one who walked into that room.”
Ouch. Sorry, Robert. I assured her that it was an accident and
that I would be getting better soon.
On one of her many trips to check on me she
paused by the light switches on the wall.
“DadDad, it would be better if that room had a light switch right by the
door and you could just switch it on before you go in.” The youngsters always hear and understand way
more than we give them credit for. She
heard the part of the story about the only light switches being on the opposite
side of the room. Of course I agreed
with her on that one. It would have been
nice to have seen where I was going. But
again, it was an accident.
I know she talked to Chris a lot throughout
the day as well, but I couldn’t always hear enough of their conversations to
make them out. I did catch one,
though. Cailyn was asking about my stay
at the minor emergency clinic. She has
been there, too. In fact her
pediatrician’s office is right next door, so she knew the ropes on this
one. Her question for Chris? “Did DadDad have to wear a little dress?” Nope.
No dresses this trip. I already
had blood on my clothes, so it didn’t really matter.
Probably my favorite Cailyn-ism of the day,
though, came as she stood right next to me for a long period of time, just
staring at my face. I knew what she was
doing, so I didn’t look at her for a while.
Finally I turned to face her and asked, “Whatcha doin’?” She cocked her head a bit to the side like a
dog hearing an unusual sound and in her very best, serious nurse-voice said, “It’s
OK, DadDad, I’m just looking at your threads.”
Threads? Ah, yes, she was just
checking out my stitches. Means the same
thing, right?
1 Corinthians 12:24-26 says, “But God has combined the members of the
body and has given greater honor to the parts that lacked it, so that there
should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern
for each other. If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is
honored, every part rejoices with it.”
Father, thank you for the loving concern of
my five-year-old nurse. Amen.
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