This will definitely make you happy.

Lying on a gurney, I watch the bruise on my forearm expand.  Since my vein blew, a second intravenous line was inserted on the back of my right wrist.  I hate it there, it interferes with my writing.  I brought my computer so I could write but I know my time is limited.  When the Benadryl kicks in I will get sleepy and stupid. 

The viscous infusion of gammaglobulin accumulates bubbles in the line as the hours slowly pass.  Invariably, the pump begins to complain loudly about the time I get sleepy.  The obnoxious alarm awakens me and summons the nurse every few minutes as I start to drift off.  

I am hospitalized so frequently I drove myself today.  Usually, my dear friend Karen drives me.  Our time together is one of the gifts this chronic disease has given me. I don’t know if the sun is shining outside or if it is raining, nor does it matter. I will spend the day in my cubicle at the infusion center.  There are no windows and it feels like a cave. I ask the nurse to open the interior blinds so at least I can see them scurrying around the desk.

Since I cannot sleep and I cannot stay alert, I drink coffee.  It is weak but fresh and the supply is endless in the hospital.  In my grogginess, I see a couple of friends searching above the entryways for a room number.  I wave to them and they stay for a visit.  I first met them nine years ago when they moved here from somewhere up north. They are both professors at the university and whenever I am in their company I am acutely aware of my diction and drawl.  They trusted me to deliver their two precious daughters who are bright, creative and thoughtful.  Today, I am presented with two pages they colored front and back.  

The older sister painstakingly wrote my name in symmetrical block letters and drew a rainbow over flowers.  The flowers are smiling.  She signed her name in black crayon on the back and she wrote,

“Get well soon!”

Yeah, that probably won’t happen.  Myasthenia gravis is incurable, but the sentiment is thoughtful. The younger sister may have copied her design, but her rainbow is smiling in addition to the flowers.  She wrote,

“I drew this because I thought it would make you happy.  It is a smiley rainbow over smiley flowers.”

How could those words not make me happy?

The flowers are smiling, the rainbow is smiling and now I am smiling too.  It takes both rain and sunshine to make a rainbow. And it definitely makes me happy.  The key to happiness is not perpetual sunshine.  The key to happiness is accepting the necessary rain to make a rainbow and knowing rainbows can smile – if you have a set of crayons.  Flowers smile too – if they get enough rain and sunshine. The key to happiness is focusing on the treasures, not the tragedies.  But sometimes it takes a tragedy for us to find the treasure; just like it takes rain and sunshine to make a rainbow.  The ultimate key to happiness is crayons, definitely crayons.  May the sunshine in your rainstorm and may your smiley rainbow over your smiley flowers make you happy too.

Proverbs 17:22, “A cheerful heart is good medicine…” (NIV)

Vickie Petz Henderson, M.D. practiced obstetrics and gynecology for twenty until her active life was derailed by a rare neuromuscular disease.  She has now been given her heart’s desire to write.
Facebook: Vickie Petz Henderson
Blog: My Right Side Up Life   www.myupsiderightlife.com
Twitter: @rightsideuplife