Dear Momma,

Now that I’ve gone, like, six times to Student Health since I’ve been in college, I’m realizing that I’ve never really stopped to tell you how much I appreciate that you’re a doctor. Until now, I’ve never had to sit in a doctor’s office when I’m sick, and for that I am tremendously grateful. I’ve never fully recognized your powers of calling in prescriptions or calling one of your friends to make a house call (because you’d do the same for them), and only now do I see how lucky I’ve been.

You’re always there when I need you, but you’re also tough on me because you know that because I’m your daughter, I obviously have a higher pain tolerance than anyone else. When I broke my foot and you didn’t take me to get it x-rayed for three days, I know it was just because you thought I could take it. At the same time, you were here in Virginia for me not 10 hours after I broke my collarbone and you knew I’d need you.

It’s been nicer than I can put into words knowing that I can look in our medicine cabinet at home and always be able to find Band-Aids, ACE wraps, medical tape, three different kinds of allergy medicine, Advil, and, you know, random other antibiotics in case yellow fever comes back or something.

You’re always prepared for everything, so I guess that’s why the scissors in our kitchen are the heavy-duty ones that are usually used to cut clothes off of people in the ER. Just in case, you never know.

Even now that I don’t live at home, you’re still just a phone call away any time something is wrong, or I don’t remember which cough medicine puts me to sleep, or my friend sprains her ankle and I FaceTime you so can tell her if she should go to the emergency room or not.

I’m incredibly thankful, but I know that I’ll also never be able to thank you enough. I suppose I'll just keep letting you take care of me and that can be the way that I show you how much I love you.

Love,

Your Sickly Daughter