The Littlest Angel; a story of Warren and Samantha

The children's choir walked up the center aisle of the church, tallest ones leading, followed by the smaller ones until they stood at the front of the church, off to the side of the manger scene. Moms, dads and grandparents strained to see their little ones as they prepared to sing the songs that went with the Christmas pageant. The voluminous old choir gowns that passed for angel costumes had seen many pageants over the years.

The littlest angel stood in the front row, her head just reaching the shoulder of the other 'angels' in the choir. Her long locks draped over the shoulder of her white angel gown that was several sizes too big and reached nearly to her shoes. Her brother, a full head and shoulder taller than her, stood on one side, while another boy and girl flanked her on the right and the older children stood behind them. Golden tinsel garland halos encircled their heads.

A chorus of young voices rang clear as they sang the first song. "O come all ye faithful..." sang her brother earnestly. His head nodded as he emphasized each syllable. And with each syllable, his halo dipped further and further across his brow. He reached up to steady it and push it back in place.

The littlest angel sang not a word, but looked silently out at the congregation clutching her old pink kitty, the one concession her mother made as she talked her into joining the other children in the angel choir. Her fist wrapped around it's neck clutching it to her. 'Meow' would not have lived long had he had air in his lungs instead of stuffing. Not with that grip.

The next song began. She moved not a muscle, except her eyes, which shifted from left to right searching out anyone who would come rescue her. They reminded her mother of the eyes on the black and white cat clock she'd seen in cartoons, as they moved back and forth. In the congregation, her grandparents sat grinning proudly from ear to ear as they watched their adorable grandchildren.

The littlest angel looked down at the floor...and her halo slipped over her face and dropped to the ground. Only her head moved as she looked back up. A boy sitting on the step in front of her picked up the garland and passed it to her brother. Matter-of-factly, and oblivious of the people looking on, he dutifully picked up the garland, turned to his sister and began to arrange it on her head. His robe draped over her face, obscuring her from sight, as he patted it into place.

In the congregation, the grandparents sat with hands over their mouths, hiding the laughter as they watched the two, coping with the dilemma of costumes, songs, and propriety. But their shaking shoulders gave them away.

The third song began. The halo slipped down. The littlest angel did not move. The older brother picked it up and turned to his sister. As the rest of the choir sang, they faced each other, she looking up at him trusting him to fix everything. He shaped the garland, arranged it on her head, studied his work, adjusted the halo, and patted it into place, again. Pink kitty dangled limply at her side, but as long as he was there, and her brother took care of her, she could make it through the show.

She spoke not a word...but stood still through the show. And the grandparents wiped their eyes, stilled their shoulders, and beamed at their grandchildren. For what is a Christmas pageant without a littlest angel, and her big brother to look after her.

I Don't Do Sick

I haven't been blogging! Have you missed me? We've gone from Halloween to Christmas and I've barely noticed. Granted, in between there were 2 trips and Thanksgiving, so I have been busy. But writing has really taken a back burner to anything else. My creative skills are lying in a cold frying pan waiting for someone to light the flame.

 

Around the beginning of November, I came down with a bad sore throat and a fever. The doctor ruled out Strep, but put me on an antibiotic and directions for chicken soup, lots of fluids and plenty of rest. The fever subsided and 2 days later, I was feeling perky and energetic, in spite of the cough that seemed to be a residual of the sore throat.

 

3 weeks ago, I lost my voice. That is rare, but this time it was gone for several days. Larry was torn between reveling in the silence and being frustrated as he tried to read my lips. Round 2 at the doctors! More antibiotics and another strep test. (Negative, again). As my voice came back, so did my cough.

 

Week 5 of this nonsense and a third doctor's visit left me with a diagnosis of a sinus infection, a whole regimen of drugs I could take, and more instructions for plenty of fluids and lots of rest. There was only one problem. I felt fine. And it's Christmas. Who gets lots of rest around Christmas?

The common line of thought is that men don't see a doctor when they should. I've started to realize a few truths about Larry and I. 1) Larry is exceptionally good about keeping doctor's appointments, and seeing a doctor when he doesn't feel well. 2) He has no trouble following doctor's orders, for rest, medication, tests, etc. 3) I am not nearly as good as he is.

I grew up with a doctor for a dad, so I will follow their instructions very well, but it is only recently that I realized I am much more reluctant to make an appointment unless I am really feeling badly. I don't get sick very often. The only 'over the counter' drug I take is aspirin or advil.

For weeks people have been telling me to 'get better', 'feel better', 'get lots of rest', plus plenty of advice from others who have found what works for them. Feel Better? I feel fine, mostly,... usually.... and that's the problem. Apparently if I don't have a fever, aches, pains, I don't consider myself sick. A cold is not 'sick'. A sinus infection is not 'sick'. Once the antibiotics kick in and I'm not contagious, I'm not 'sick'. I've been very good about taking the meds. But getting plenty of rest has been a lot trickier.

I'm also realizing that I may 'feel fine', but I'm not at the top of my game. My head is in the clouds, my thoughts are befuddled. I have a hard time planning my day. It has as much to do with the lineup of pills I am taking to combat this sinus infection, as it does the actual sinus infection. Whatever the reason, I'm tired of hearing the inside of my head and living in a fog.

I may be a slow learner, but I'm realizing that I may not be bed-ridden, but I do need to take it easy, rest up, and drink plenty of fluids. I'm learning to go a little slower, and try to push a little less. Even as Christmas looms. I'm really ready to be rid of this. I guess it's time to learn how to 'be' sick.

Final Note: It's taken me a few days to write this. On Friday I suddenly realized the fog had lifted! I still have a week's worth of meds to take, which I will, and I will continue with the fluids and rest recommendations, but currently there is a light at the end of the tunnel....Hopefully it's not an oncoming train.