My parents keep saying that there is reason in my sickness. Reason is definitely something to cling to, five and a half weeks in. Dad said maybe it's so I learn to fully rely on and trust S. Boom, whack, you're vulnerable. I guess this is what marriage is made of. Or maybe the reason of this is to give me a chance to revel in all the amazingly generous and warm and loving people around me. I mean. I have been so doted on. Today there was ginger ale (my favorite coworker keeps me supplied), and a get well card that said 'pretty please!' and then when I got home from the doctor's office just now, a lady from my parents' church, who has already given me so much, like a toaster, and beautiful ferns to decorate the sanctuary for our wedding, drove twenty miles into town to bring me chicken noodle soup and crackers and freshly baked bread and a poinsettia plant. My first poinsettia plant. I have not gone more than twelve hours, give or take, without breaking down into tears for quite some time now. And now I'm crying again, because of the poinsettia and the food, and because this is so much for one day! And yet it's just a piece of the amazing care and soft hands that have been all around me throughout this damn sickness. It's not over yet--I'm still not whole. I guess maybe that means that there's another reason in this somewhere. Like, I don't know, a 'come to Jesus' moment on my horizon or something. Or maybe I was always meant to own the pink plastic puke pan my mom gave to me the other day. Now that it's in my possession, perhaps my tribulations will soon be over. Waah. At this point I think I may be asking for tissues for Christmas, and that's it.
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