I have resolved to practice gratitude this year, (and hope that the habit follows me my whole life.)
It started when I was complaining one day that my fridge was too overcrowded and things were falling out of it.
Seriously, I was complaining because I had too much food in my fridge. Too. Much. Food. Give my head a shake.
That being said, it’s easy to be grateful when the sun is shining, you are feeling healthy and you are not under pressure to satisfy your all your obligations.
This week was a bit harder than others in the gratitude department. An evil virus struck two of my three children and, with hubby working out of town, that meant shouldering the load and trying to juggle nursing the sickies, keeping up with the needs of the healthy child and trying to keep up with some of my work responsibilities. But even in the challenging times, gratitude can reign. I am grateful for my colleagues in the editorial department who stepped up and covered for me. I am moved by the friends who helped out with errands, who offered rides to activities for the healthy child, so the sickies didn’t have to get out of bed. I am grateful to know that there are people in my life who would offer me a helping hand, because facing the world alone is pretty scary.
I am also, once again reminded of how grateful I am to live in a country with universal health coverage.
After five days with a fever, I was becoming increasingly worried about my son. So I called the doctor’s office, they managed to work him into the packed schedule and I was able to get him seen by a professional. She checked for more serious conditions, checked over a bunch of body parts, reassured me that it was probably viral but told me to come back immediately if any of a few other symptoms showed up. As I write this, he’s still sick, and now his sister is too, causing me to believe the viral diagnosis was probably spot-on. But I left feeling much less anxiety and confident that my home remedies were an adequate response. I didn’t pay a dime, except to buy some more Tylenol and Gatorade.
Contrast this with my husband’s recent illness, which unfortunately took place while he was working in the United States. Near the point of incoherence from gastric problems, and unable to keep any fluids down, he made his way to an American emergency room. He was seen by a doctor, reassured that he was suffering from gastroenteritis and dehydration, was given some IV fluids and anti-nausea medication and sent on his way a couple of hours later. Then the bills arrived. The first was from the hospital — for $3,000. Then another bill, nearly $600 for the doctor’s time.
So what would I have done if I was a mother in the U.S. without insurance? Wait, worry, stress and pray that my son didn’t have anything more serious, or that I might be putting his health at risk by waiting for treatment. Yes, people can complain about Canadian health care, wait times and policies, but we also have the flip side. The gratitude side.
Thank you to our system for letting me take proper care of my son this week.