Abigail is sick. She has been sick since Friday. Today I took her to the pediatrician. A new pediatrician for a new town. She wasn't fooled and basically screamed during the entire time someone was measuring, examining, or testing her. She played when no one was around; I was disgusted.
She has a virus. We left the doctor's office with nothing except with the promise of a bill. I suspected there was nothing that could be done for her, but after three days with a fever in the triple digits averaging 102.5 while piling on the acetaminophen and ibuprofen I thought it was best to get her checked out. Only to be told that after holding her down while the nurse took a sample from the back of her throat she has a virus and to keep giving her fluids and fever reducers.
She has grown though. She weighs 22 and 3/4 pounds, which qualifies her for the higher doses of said fever reducers. So we gave her the bigger dose. And she is playing and eating pizza. And she doesn't feel miserable. And we don't feel miserable.
And this whole story makes me think about the ways I try to get by on a partial dose of prayer, or Bible study, or exercise, or conversation with my husband, or any number of things that make me a balanced individual capable of adventure and learning and picking the blocks off the floor for the thirteenth time today. It also makes me that much more thankful to God for the way He works through me on the days when a partial dose is all that I am getting of anything. Days like today when I am the platter for my "cooked goose" to sit on till she is back to her "silly goose" self.