Murphy’s Law is not Mine

I sit here in an ER, all by myself.  I checked in and realized my wallet is not with me: my husband graciously took pictures of my documentation and the kind folks at the ER let me in.

I am waiting to get my stitches from this morning redone.

They weren’t stitches I was expecting – I ended up getting a biopsy on my finger when I went to the dermatologist.  

So distracted was I by the biopsy and to some extent annoyed, that on the way home from the appointment that I didn’t notice that I was doing 70 in a 55 until I passed the cop.

The cop, of course stopped me.  He told me he’d got me with laser far exceeding the limit. I smiled sheepishly.  When he asked me where I was coming from I showed him my bandaid.

He took my License and insurance back to his squad while I tried to keep from panicking.  After what seemed a long time, the kind officer told me told me that he had no idea why he felt compelled  to do so, that he was letting me off with a warning.  I thanked him profusely and pushed onward. 

Tonight I dragged myself to the gym even though I didn’t want to go.  I made commitments I wanted to keep: I wanted to be a trooper.  I worked hard but tried to be smart about it – that said, I don’t know how but I busted my stitches wide open.  After failed attempts on the way home from the gym to McGuyver the wound  and leaving my husband home with the kids at 10:30 at night I left to go to ER.

There was a time I would be angry and impatient and yelling at something like this:  there was a time I would naturally conclude the world conspired against me.  

But today:

  1. I had a car to drive to the doctor,
  2. I had money to pay for the doctor,
  3. An officer showed me mercy when I did not deserve it,
  4. The ER let me in without ID or question,
  5. My husband ran around and took pictures of all my information and sent it to me without complaint,
  6. Someone is going to take care of this hand eventually, and
  7. Of everyone here I am in the least discomfort with plenty of entertainment.  My ouchie is more embarrassing than painful.  I’m not the helplessly watching mom with the violently ill little girl who is crying between bouts of vomit.
  8. The doctors didn’t laugh at me or my Rudolph band-aid.

Thank you, I am just fine.   God is taking care of me. Some nice nurse just brought me a warm blanket.   And I don’t mean to sound Hallmark-y but I’ll take the ER any day as long as my kiddos are safe and warm in the home I will eventually return to sometime in the next few hours.  I will have a comfortable bed to sleep in once I get there when for some the ER cots are luxury.

I will count my blessings today and call out my miracles when I see them…and be grateful that I DO see them, everywhere, not the least of which in my own perspective. 

 Thank you God.  Thank you God.   

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