The itching wakes me at 4:45 a.m. My psoriasis is back. Last night I counted 6 smallish patches on my elbows, knees and feet. Still, it's a mild case.
But the itchiness is like fire.
I toss and turn, trying desperately not to scratch. But I can't go back to sleep. I fumble out of bed and into the bathroom, searching for my tube of Cortizone. I can't find it. So I rub Vaseline lotion onto the scaly white patches. This is when I notice the fleas are back and I've already been bitten about 8 times.
Sheesh. I should just fill my pool with Calamine lotion.
I bite my lip to keep from shrieking. The itching is so intense I want to peel off my skin and scrape it over an old-fashioned washboard.
Then I remember that Wallgreens is open 24 hours a day. I slip into sweats, one of Matt's oversized pullovers and a pair of flip-flops. I let myself out into the thin light of early morning. The sky is overcast and the sprinklers douse me as I dash to the car.
On the radio, the smooth jazz station plays cheerful good-morning music. It doesn't feel like a good morning to me.
At Wallgreens, I stand in the aisle debating which cream to purchase. The instant cooling relief? The moisturizing repair cream? The coal tar?
Two employees ask if they can help me. They are smiling, cheerful.
I choose instant cooling relief, pay for it and rip open the box as soon as I'm in the car. Ahhhh….
On the way home, I stop by the drive-in donut shop and pick up a few goodies for the kids' breakfasts.
Things are looking up.
And then, I read this on Ali's African Adventure blog. And it hits me hard. Wow, my 21st century American life is so good. I can get up at 4:45 a.m., drive down the street and pick up some medicine. Whenever I want! Just because I need it! With cheerful employees asking how they can help and wishing me a good day.
I can make an appointment with a doctor of my choosing and see her on the same day.
I can feed nutritious food to my kids every single day.
And across the world, a little girl with severe scoliosis stands in line for hours, hoping for miracle. She is turned away and so is the old woman with tropical ulcers. And the old man with the bulging hernia.
Reading these stories makes me realize: I don't know what suffering is.
God forgive my ingratitude.
I can't do much to relieve their suffering. But I want to do something! I'm starting by not complaining about psoriasis and fleas. I'm starting by bringing more gratitude into my life. And I'm asking you to read Ali's blog.
Even if it's uncomfortable.
Because sometimes, I think we American Christians don't realize how good we have it.
