I was scheduled to have my rotten tonsils out on that Monday after Easter. Those things were so bad it took me months to have the infection gone long enough to even have the surgery, so I stayed the course. The extended family was taking care of the kids—all that could be done by me was to wait for the search to end. And it did the night I went into the hospital. Dad came to tell me they had found them. He sat at the end of my hospital bed and cried.
The next morning I had surgery.
Like a silent angel Mrs. Dr. stepped in and kept me fast asleep for a solid week.
Two motives. A. I was in shock over the lost people we loved.
B. OMG—the pain in my throat
But Mrs. Dr. kept me under for the whole week—I believe because of both accounts.
Beautiful life 