February 2 – “Groundhog Day”

 

 

We went to the hospital yesterday.  April was finally back in a regular room, and she had not run fever all night.  She was still extremely tired, though.  Her appointed task from the docs was to sleep and get rested up.  Most importantly, she had the clearance to receive a certain little three-year-old visitor.  We didn't tell her where we were going, but when we stopped at the light in front of the hospital, Cailyn grinned from ear to ear and said, "I going to see Mommy."  As far as I know she'd only been there that one time before, the last time we went to see Mommy just before she went into ICU.  Smart kid.

 

While being in a regular room was a huge step forward, and being without fever was certainly a milestone, we still don't have any idea what caused the problem in the first place.  There are still numerous tests out that the infectious disease docs ran, so maybe one of them will give us a clue.  The spleen they removed was also sent to be cut up and inspected with a fine tooth comb.  Surely it will hold some evidence.

 

Meanwhile, back at the house, Cailyn locked the bathroom door.  With all of us on the outside.  Oh, she came into my office and fessed up, "I did it, DadDad.  I locked door.  But I get it."  Before I could even respond, she opened the appropriate drawer and took out a pen.  Grasping it with both of her little hands, she unscrewed it and pulled it apart.  Tirelessly, she then left the casing, took the innards, and skipped happily away.  Of course I was intrigued, so I followed, stopping briefly to pick up the little key that comes with those locking inside doors – the screwdriver-looking thing that fits into that little hole in the doorknob.  When I caught up to her she was already at work.  The innards of the ball point pen were just the right size to fit into the hole.  She was poking it through the little hole, doing her best to get it to open.  I watched her for a while, not interfering.  She did finally ask me for help, so I accepted her offer of the pen innards, twisted my body a bit to hide my actions just long enough to switch out the pen with the actual key, and quickly popped the lock.  She perkily said, "Thank you, DadDad," like breaking into locked doors was a common, every-day experience.  Now where did she see that one?  Frightening.

 

Isaiah 57:15 says, "For this is what the high and lofty One says — he who lives forever, whose name is holy: 'I live in a high and holy place, but also with him who is contrite and lowly in spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly and to revive the heart of the contrite.'"

 

Father, it has been amazing to watch the expressions of concern and offers of care that have come forth since April has been in the hospital.  It's even more amazing that you have walked with her – and us – through this confusing and frustrating ordeal.  She seems better.  But you know that, don't you?  Thank you.  Amen.