Once again... I am sick.

I hate being sick.  I hate it.  Even just a cold is miserable to me, I don't want to do anything because I ache, I can't breathe, and my head feels full and congested.

I'm lucky to have the advent of modern medicine on my side.  I have two different cold medicines... one that makes me sleepy, and one that doesn't... two different pain relievers to alternate if necessary... a cold can of Dr. Pepper to sip from, a TV with cable on which I can watch any number of shows, movies, the news, DVR recordings... or my current guilty pleasure... Lifetime Original Movies.  *Blushes in shame*.

I'm cozy in my bed under a sheet and three blankets, one of them electric and with a little remote control I can reach without moving hardly at all to adjust the temperature just right.  I'm resting against three pillows and cuddling the blanket that was my 'lovey' as a child.  When the aching gets too bad, I have a big white bath tub that I can fill with hot water and fragrant bubbles to relax... candles to light, a stereo to play relaxing music on...

I have an iPhone - a gift from the Easter Bunny - that I can download apps on, make calls and texts with, browse the web, and any number of other entertaining things.  If I'm feeling really terrible and crawling out of bed is just too much, I can even use that phone to summon my loving mother to come to my aid.  I have a rescue inhaler in case my breathing gets too bad, and a doctor I can call in case I need antibiotics.  There are no less than half a dozen nationally recognized, and even some worldly renowned, hospitals within a short drive from me in case I should develop some complication.

I have a laptop - so I don't even have to leave my bed to check facebook, chat with friends, blog, browse websites, check the weather and more.  I have enough comfy pajama pants and sweatshirts that I could change them twice a day for a week and still not run out of clean ones.  I have a freezer full of popsicles and a coffee shop that has amazing hot chocolate right down the road to soothe my sore throat.  I have a big box of tissues so I can blow my nose... even the kind with lotion in them that don't hurt so much when you have to use way too many of them.  I have any number of fragrant lotions - or plain-smelling but effective ones - that I can rub on my dry, irritated skin.

I could go on and on about the comforts around me, even when I'm sick, even when my body feels broken... but I think you get the picture.

Even with all those comforts though, I'm feeling pretty terrible.  My head feels almost too heavy to hold up, full of congestion and mucous (sorry, I know that is TMI, but it's true), my eyes are red and burning, my throat constantly feels like it's on fire, my skin itches from one of my medications, all I want to do is sleep, my body aches all over, my nose alternates between stuffy and runny, so I'm either constantly wiping or blowing it, making the skin around it red and raw and painful.  Putting the lotion on it hurts so badly it brings tears to my eyes.  I can't breathe well through my nose, especially when I'm sleeping, so my mouth tends to fall open... which in turn makes my sore throat worse.  I hate being sick.  It's miserable.  I can't do all the things I want to do, I have to choose between 'calling in sick' (I put it in quotes because I'm lucky enough to work from home doing childcare) and losing income, or muddling through my job, feeling horrible (which I can do because the kids are the ones who got me sick in the first place!).  Being sick is just no fun.  Fortunately for me, it's just a cold and there is certainly a light at the end of the tunnel.

But now it's time to do a little math.  First, we need to subtract some things from what I just described.  Subtract the comfortable bed, warm blankets, cozy pillows and heaps of clean, comfortable clothes.  Subtract the nice cold beverage and the soothing medicines.  Subtract the loving caregiver and various forms of entertainment you can utilize right from your very bed.  Subtract the ability to blow your nose or wipe it in attempt to make breathing easier.  Subtract access to readily available doctors and hospitals.  Subtract the soothing bubble baths and lotion.  Subtract the bliss of falling into sleep, the brief respite from misery you can have because medications have treated your symptoms.  Subtract the bathroom only a few feet away so you don't have to go far to get to it.  Subtract the lovey and the soothing music.  Subtract the easy access to popsicles and hot chocolate to sooth your sore throat.  Subtract any physical comfort at all, any human contact at all, any entertainment at all... and any hope that it will ever end.

Now add some things.  Add a set of filthy clothes that you've been wearing for days already and will wear for many more days to follow.  Add a mess of food you couldn't swallow fast enough, waste that couldn't be contained by a diaper that is changed once or twice a day at best.   Add a sticky bare vinyl mattress underneath you in an outdated, cold crib pushed right up against the one next to it.  Add a cruel 'caregiver' who only strikes you if you cry out in misery... like the one who struck this little boy:

Add mind-numbing boredom, day in, day out... nothing to do but stare at the same bars of your crib you have been staring at for years.  Add a nose that is both dripping and crusted almost shut because no one has wiped it.  Add a throat that is raw as could be, from which there can be no relief.  Add insomnia caused by the tremendous pain and discomfort you're in, not even allowing your body the sweet release of sleep.  Add, instead of comfort foods, an insufficient amount of scalding, putrid liquid poured down your throat in a haste.  Add, instead of the irritating sinus pressure everyone deals with at some time or another, a head full of pressure and heaviness, not because of a simple temporary cold, but perhaps because you have hydrocephalus that no one has ever bothered to treat... like this little girl...

Marsha has a wonderful family working very hard to bring her and her sister-to-be home.
She is four years old and has never been treated for her hydrocephalus, which is intensely more excruciating than your average headache and cannot be treated at this advanced stage in her country.

Add not only the aches and pains of being ill, but the extra pain and soreness, from the bruises, from the improperly healed fractures, from the contracted joints, from the raw spots where, out of boredom, you've bitten your skin for self stimulation.  Add an angry, red rash from being made to lie in the same diaper all day, or longer.  Add the sounds of the cries of misery from the other children in the room, in their own cribs, experiencing their own torment.




Now, time to solve the equation.  Simple elementary school addition and subtraction.  Subtract all the comforts that make being sick just a little easier.  Add more sources of misery on top of illness.

What you're left with... is what millions of orphans face every single day.  Every.  Single.  Day.  The lucky ones are adopted - but still they have lived these conditions far too long... imagine having a bad cold for four years straight.  Now try to imagine multiplying the misery of that cold over 100 times.  No, perhaps 'lucky' isn't quite the right word.

The others... well, they too eventually get relief from their misery... not in a week or so, like we do when we have a cold, but eventually they get relief...

...when they die...

...alone...

Every time I get sick now, I think about them.  About the children who are sick, with far worse ailments than a cold, but do not have the comforts and privileges I do.  It truly breaks my heart.  Please... help these kids avoid any more torment.

Share.
Pray.
Advocate.
Donate.
Adopt.

http://www.reecesrainbow.org.

"Carissa" - soon to be the newest member of the Matthews family

If you feel inclined to donate right now, would you please consider my friend Lisa Matthews and her family? They are trying to bring their little girl home from a terrible orphanage and are hoping to make their first trip soon, but they are still grossly underfunded.  Lisa lost her mother recently and between her grief and lack of success in fundraising, she has been struggling a lot lately... it would mean the world to me for you to bless her family... and no gift is too small, because every penny counts.  (Click here to be directed to their grant fund)

In whatever way you choose... be a part of the solution.  Help stop any more children from dying alone in pain.  BE the change.  We can't do it without you.