A New Day

Yesterday was not good.

Today is ... well, better, and that says a lot after a day like yesterday.

After a morning full of doctor's visits, blood work, insurance calls and a run to the hospital pharmacy, the morning was gone, my leg was swollen and sore and driving was more of a chore that it should be. Not to mention both mine and Woodstock's tummies were dangerously near rioting.

I found a little Japanese cafe a few blocks from the hospital and decided to give into my weeks'-long craving for noodles and sushi. Woodstock, truly a child of her parents, adores Japanese food. She thought it sounded like a wonderful idea. I figured for $15 I could get each of us the entree we wanted (I wanted shrimp - it's not something she can eat yet) and there would be plenty for dinner, eliminating the need to stand for lengthy periods tonight.

It was the most delightful lunch I've had in ages. Woodstock and I sat side-by-side, her with her little bowl of rice, chicken terriyaki and vegetable tempura; me with my shrimp udon noodles and sushi. Every once in awhile she would ask for a "noo" (noodle), other than that Woodstock chattered happily ("num num nummy"), used her fork at least as often as not, refrained from scattering food on the floor or her clothes and delighted me with delighted exclamations regarding the food and the other patrons in the cafe.

The food hit the perfect spot of comfort and nutrition (sweet potato tempura are, after all, still a vegetable), the gray day outside seemed somehow brighter. My leg, propped on a chair next to me, ceased to hurt quite so much and we were restored for our journey home.

Upon departing, I received word that the insurance issues had been worked out and I would be receiving the necessary medication for the mere sum of $150. I think the mail order pharmacy thought I was insane when I shrieked my delight. After all, while $150 in one context is huge, when compared to $900 it feels almost free.

Woodstock is napping. We'll swap meals and I'll dine on teriyaki and she'll dine on noodles tonight. No work for me until Monday. A nap calls. My leg is again elevated, lessening the pain. I didn't kill myself or chicken out during the 4 a.m. injection.
Himself boards a plane for The Frontier late tonight. A dear friend in Virginia called to say "hello."

New days are glorious things. They don't wipe away all the pain and anxiety and frustration and worry, but they certainly heal one's soul through the little things - a delightful toddler, wonderful food and dear friends.

One day down, several hundred more to go.