We are again sitting in the hospital waiting room. Our little grandson, born with a congenital diaphragmatic hernia, has made some significant gains this week. He’s off several medications and has fewer tubes and wires.
Unfortunately, he is now battling an infection. The doctors haven’t figured out where it is yet, but tests have revealed there is a reason for his fever.
The doctors warned us that progress would come “two steps forward, one step back.”
Still, these setbacks wear us down after the baby had such a good couple of days.
The seriousness of little Clay’s condition sure puts a different perspective on minor injuries.
I remember when Hannah stuck a peanut up her nose when she was just a toddler. I couldn’t get it out, so I took her to the emergency room. Another time, she acquired a minor cut and had to have a stitch or two. I remember how distraught I was.
We were watching the news a while ago and saw a little girl with a huge gash on her face. She’d been attacked by a pit bull and required more than 50 stitches.
If that had happened to one of my girls when they were small, I’d have freaked out, probably.
I don’t mean to minimize the trauma of that little girl’s or her family’s experience, but watching that news report, I longed for baby Clay’s condition to be something so simple.
Whenever we’re faced with adversity, it’s not a bad idea to remind ourselves that things could be worse.