It's official.

First, Ruby no longer has tonsils or adenoids.  And secondly, she is really and truly the sweetest patient you will ever have the pleasure to meet.  One time, when she was somewhere between consciousness and the hazy world created by painkillers, a sweet nurse asked her for the 47th time if she would like any ice chips.  To which my little daughter, with her eyes closed responded, "No thank you, I'm fine." 

I'm just wondering, when I'm in the hazy world created by painkillers, do I remember my p's and q's? 

And then tonight, after we finally made it home, had her showered and I was laying down with her to make sure she had a comfortable night of sleep, she leaned over to me and said,

"Sometimes mom, if my throat is hurting, I just try to ignore it". 

I nearly lost my composure in that moment.  She is so sweet and pure.  I'm actually humbled to be in her presence. 

The night before her surgery, I told her she got to choose the dinner, because it would be the last night in a while that she could eat whatever she wanted.  I was sure she would pick spaghetti with meatballs, because it's her favorite meal.  But she walked over to me and whipered in my ear that she would like to have scrambled eggs, and egg sandwhiches, because she knew the brothers didn't like spaghetti, but they love egg sandwhiches. 

In her prayer tonight, as she was going to bed, she said:

"Please bless all the people in all the world who have to get their tonsils removed.  Bless them that they will be okay, and that they will get better quickly, and that their throat won't hurt them too much."

I might be forgetting, but I don't think she asked once that she'd be okay, or that her throat wouldn't hurt. 

Sometimes I worry about people in this world who are so good and so kind, deep down in their marrow, because I fear that it is those people who will get used and trampled over, as life goes on.  But I realize with my own daughther, that whether she gets trampled or not, her joy genuinely comes from thinking of others before herself.  And if that is how she is going to navigate her time on this Earth, I will view it as one of the gifts she came delivered here with, from God. 

That's why it's official, she's the sweetest, kindest, truest patient one has ever had the chance to care for.  She's going to recover just fine from this surgery.  In fact, we're going to have to remind her repeatedly that she is not "all better" yet.  Because she is going to wake up tomorrow, just like she did today, trying to make it a great day for everyone around her. 

P.S.  Come back tomorrow!!  It's the 300th post.  I'll try to make it a good one.  

P.P.S. Now I need to go wipe the tears out of my eyes, and remember to offer a huge prayer of thanksgiving.