Saturday, December 6, 2008


My Una has an awful toothache. Tylenol hasn't helped, half a tablet of Tylenol 3 only gave her a heavy head, homeopathic remedies haven't helped, and she gets only short-term moderate relief from heat packs and clove oil. O, stabat mater, how awful it is to have to stand by helplessly and watch a child suffer. How dreadful it is when she turns to me with tears in her eyes and says, "Mama, my tooth hurts," knowing that I have done all I can but somehow hoping that I can ease her pain. I stroke her hair, rub her feet and say, "I know it hurts. You'll get through this. Offer your pain for someone who is in danger of losing his or her soul."

Why do these things always happen on the weekend?


  1. Thanks. I slept with her on the pull-out sofa in the living room last night, and I thank God that she was actually able to get a good night's rest. She says her mouth is still hurting and that she just wants to get through this day and get another good sleep tonight.

  2. Prayers for your sweet Una. Oh, the poor dear. :(


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