Mission of Mercy

I mentioned in my last blog post that I was headed to Illinois to assist my sister as she suffered from "shingles".  She was diagnosed on Monday, Jan. 21st.  The next day, she wrote to me saying that the pain was almost unbearable, and that she was hoping her daughters and/or friends would come with offers of food because she wasn't well enough to cook.  Guess I have a bit of a thick skull because it took that long for it to dawn on me that I needed to go to Illinois to help her out.  I called and said, "Help is on the way.  Do you need me to come?"  She said she wouldn't mind.  I took the next day to pay bills and pack, then drove the 3 1/2 hours to their lovely home outside of Springfield with the notion that I'd just do whatever it took to help out. 

Depending on the month, my sister is 5-6 years older than me, but she doesn't look it.  She is very attractive, petite, and a delight to be around.  She is somewhat tough in the regard that I am...having inherited the "damn-the-torpedoes, full-speed-ahead" approach to life that we got from our mother and grandmother.  Still, she is caring for her husband who was a tyrant when he was well, but now suffers from early stages of dementia.  In short, when I went, I understood that there would be issues...and there were.  I understood that I could do nothing to change her pain.  All I could do was do light housework and cooking and hope for the best. 

Shingles is a nasty disease.  My sister can only sleep in a recliner...cannot manage the bed yet...is under a doctor's care with all kinds of advice from a zillion people who have had it.  (The statistic says that 50% of Americans will get it before age 80...so why isn't it talked about more??  Even getting the shot won't guarantee immunity.)  Basically, all I did when I was there was cooking, and laundry.  It didn't help much.  Her husband has food issues.  I did what I could.

My original intent was to stay long enough to get my sister through the worst of the disease.  I was naive.  We finally negotiated my exit day...Tuesday...which would be Day 12.  I felt awful in leaving.  My sister and I both cried, although not in each other's presence.  Hopefully, she will get better soon.  I just felt bad leaving her behind...

God provides.  I need more faith, I guess...