(Image from 123RF) When I was young, I used to think my Mom would be a great nurse. She had all the details of how to make me feel better when I was sick perfected. Her checklist of care looked something like this: 1. Notice, without the aid of a thermometer that I felt under the weather. 2. Determine, with the aid of a thermometer, how high my fever was. 3. Head to the pantry a return in a matter of moments with a tall glass of Ginger-ale accompanied with crushed ice and a striped straw. Give me Tylenol to take with the drink. 4. If my fever was quite high, she's get cotton and rubbing alcohol and rub down my arms and legs. 5. If my throat were sore, she'd get Vicks and rub my chest and throat down and wrap my neck with one of my Dad's long socks. 6. If I was restless and could not sleep, she's read out loud to me until I dozed off. One winter, I was so sick with strep throat my mom read the entire book of Charlotte's Web to me. The medicine I had been given by the
Life is tough, but hope is tougher.