There's an Irish blessing that even us Scandi-hoovians have heard. You know, the one where we want the road to rise up to meet them and the wind be at their back, etc. I'm not Irish – hubby is a bit – but I've been thinking about the blessing a lot today. Yes, it's St. Patty's Day but also, I want my baby to be on that road... to recovery.
I now know that one of the harder things about being a mom is trying to mother your sick "baby" seven times zones away! It's been a long week!
In last Sunday's weekly call, Mr. World Traveler said he'd been sick a few days with fever, "migraine" level headaches, and swollen/sore throat. Boy did I want to hop on a plane and deliver some love and chicken soup! All we could do is remain helpless – and pray. A lot.
Long story short, he did get to an English-speaking doctor on both Monday and Thursday since the symptoms persisted. And he finally got antibiotics on Thursday to kick the virus in the butt. He made it to class two days and suffered for it. Today, he told us he's finally feeling close to himself. He can eat and swallow food with no pain and doesn't have too much of a temperature (in Celsius or Fahrenheit) or headache. Praise the Lord!
When I was talking to my mom today she said the worrying doesn't end. It actually grows because you start worrying about grandchildren, too! No wonder we get gray hair!
I'm just pleased that my baby is better and truly on the road to recovery. And that I can deliver chicken soup or whatever he wants in 17 days.
Yep, Momma copes by buying a plane ticket! I'm flying solo and spending a long weekend with Carter from Thursday, April 4, through Sunday, April 7 (flying home on that Monday). Dad will be busy coaching baseball or shoveling fields to prep for baseball. And maybe even having a bratwurst in our honor.
He is part German, after all... and Irish... and English... and Bohemian... and so on.
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