Sickedy Sick Sick Sick
What would be the best thing to do right before knee surgery? Get strep throat, of course. I have impeccable timing. I began feeling not so hot on Wednesday night, and on Thursday morning I was praying for death. My mom gets one million gold medals for taking over and carpooling and feeding and soothing and keeping things going. By Friday afternoon, when I realized I was not getting better and my nausea was bad enough I needed help, my doctor was booked and I had to go to Urgent Care. So David, who had all of three hours of free time on Friday because he had to chaperon a dance at his school that night, spent his evening with me at Urgent Care. I sat in a chair, holding my vomit bowl, looking like death, and he sweetly filled out paperwork. He also gets a million gold medals. The doctor said now that school is back in session, strep is rampant. But I am not in school, I told her. She didn't care. It's still rampant. It took another 24 hours for the antibiotics and anti-nausea meds to kick in, but now that they have I feel like a completely new person. In the past three days I have only eaten 2 popsicles. I'm looking forward to moving up to toast later tonight. If I can get some good square meals in me and have no fever tomorrow, then I can still have my surgery. I guess that's progress, right?

And yet the entire time I was kneeling at the porcelain bowl, I was very aware that I have good access to healthcare and medicine. My few days of horror came to an end. Over and done with. But right now, in famine stricken Africa, there is no escape. There's no hope for tomorrow that they will feel better. No light at the end of the tunnel. Unless...

Unless we help. Can you spare five dollars? That's less than the cost of my antibiotics. Less than lunch at Subway. Less than a package of tube socks, for goodness sake! Go to my previous post where my sweet friend Sarah has set up the easiest peasiest way for you to give. Please give. Please. Not for me, but for Zinabu's family. Please.