As I finish up the laundry and begin packing once again for our two day blitz to St. Louis, I find that the prospect of taking the casts off makes me absolutely giddy. I realize that there is the possibility that he'll put another set on but that is a very small possibility. The greater possibility is that he'll take them off and tell us that there are more issues than casting can tackle and we have to head in a different direction for a more permanent fix. But whatever the outcome, I just can't wait to have them gone.
Gone. Off. No more hot pink legs. I just can't wait.
I can't wait to give her a bath. To know that she's all clean from her head down to her toes. I can't wait to know that when she gets food in her hair, I can wash it out that night in the shower. Or to put on pants that don't have to have legs wide enough to stretch over those bulky casts. Or that are long enough not to ride up them as she struts around the house. I can't wait to be able to put her on the potty without worrying that her casts are cutting the seat up and giving germs another place to hide. Or to know that her pull ups aren't being torn by the casts as we pull them up and down over those suckers. I can't wait to have her climb the stairs all by herself again, knowing she can do it alone. Or to have her put on her pants again because she can bend her knees as needed. Or to be able to walk next to the shopping cart instead of in the back of it because her casts are too big to get her in the seat. And I can't wait to put shoes on her feet. Real shoes. Shoes that fit and that match better than her constant tube sock companions at the moment.
Yes, the casts are a pain when you are three, going on four. And while I know that we're doing the best we know how to do to help her, I'll be glad to see them gone again. At least for awhile.
And while I'm dreaming of cast-free legs, I'm also praying that they've done what they were supposed to do and the Lord healed her through them. Please Lord. Heal her. Today.