My Remarkable Hand

In a recent post, Hey, Yogi... just call me Booboo!  I made a reference to a MySpace posting about my hand.  Leslie, over at My turn to talk and My turn to rant, requested that I post the entire MySpace essay.  So, in the giving spirit of Christmas, here you are, Lesley...  the entire story from March of this year:

 

Today started out typical, until I heard the BOOM!  Well, come to think of it, that was pretty normal too.  My mother-in-law fell again.  She gets very impatient and forgets she can't always walk.  WHile trying to make it four feet to her stash of peppermints, she fell and hit the back of her head on something and got a nasty cut.  Hubby called me to help.  That's when I found her sitting in the floor with the back of her head wet with blood.  After locating the source of the bleeding, I held the heel of my hand firmly against it while she sat pleading with me to have Hubby and my father-in-law pick her up.  With both of them having previous back surgeries, she had no choice but to wait on the ambulance.  Besides, she hit hard enough that perhaps we shouldn't be moving her around.

The ambulance cresw arrived (a few familiar faces) and carried her off to the local emergency room.  After the CT scan showed no problem and she got a couple of souvenir staples in the back of her head, Hubby brought her back home.

During this ordeal I got a message from my daughter.  It seems Grand #3 was running a temp of 104 and shaking!  Her preschool called Mommy and Daddy at work.  Daddy was on his way to pick her up and take her to the doctor.  I was going to be in Middletown anyway for the choir concert (Grand #1) so I would get to see her and give her a dose of Nana!

I drove Dani home after the concert to find Grace still running a fever.  Her body was like a hot roll right out of the over.  She crawled into my lap and wanted to give me one of her squeezy hugs.  She wrapped around me and laid her head on my shoulder.  I put one arm around her and my other hand to the bafk of her head and rocked her as I always do when she's feeling lousy.

It dawned on me that the hand that applied pressure against the wound of the seventy-seven-year-old woman in the floor was now the hand that cradled and comforted the four-year-old with the fever.  I stopped typing just now to gaze at that hand... that hand I take for granted every day.  It's remarkable.  My God is so amazing!