I fight dragons everyday living here in Scotland, a land not the land of my birth. The climate is horrendous. “Summer” in our part of Scotland is more like winter in the Texas Hill Country—plus it rains nearly every day. Grey skies and no sun for days to weeks at a time. But weather woes are small dragons.

Last night brought out the big dragons. It’s not just the weather that is different. I’ve changed light bulbs all my life…up until now. These light bulbs don’t screw in; they have tabs that fit into slots in the light fixture—except you must push up and turn at the same time—no small feat on a short, shaky ladder with a light fixture that hangs down on a slender wire and wiggles. Plus the ratings for wattage strength is totally foreign and most of the light bulbs are weak, mostly useless “energy saving” ones. And if you need a prescription refill, you can’t just go to the drugstore, hand it in, and pick it up after a short wait. One must tic the boxes of needed medications on a printed form, drop it off at the doctor’s office, and wait 72 hours to get it. And thus…the big boys.

I’m scheduled for cataract surgery in a couple of weeks. The surgeon won’t do the surgery unless my blood pressure comes down enough. Therefore, when I went to take one of my blood pressure pills yesterday and found the box empty…it was a big deal. How could I expect my blood pressure to go down if I missed two or three days of the medication? Yet, in customary Scottish style, I would need to wait.

That dragon snapped at me incessantly after I woke up at 1 a.m. to help Alan use the bedside potty and get back in bed. I didn’t know it at the time, but more dragons were hiding under the covers. The ulcer on the back of Alan’s leg had become sore and infected. The pain kept him awake. One dragon whispered; “Take him to the emergency room at the hospital now.” Another dragon argued, “Not at 1 a.m.! Wait and start calling the doctor’s office tomorrow at 8:30 a.m. to get an emergency appointment.” The third dragon piped in, “Just call the district nurse to come out again. Don’t panic over the infection and pain. Let her come and slap a new dressing on the leg. He will be fine.” And yet another dragon… “Savannah has quit eating her food again. It’s been three days. What are you going to do about that? And didn’t you get a bill from the vet’s office? Have you paid it yet?”

As I thrashed around in bed fighting dragons, a new story idea dropped into my mind. So when I was still awake at 3 a.m., I slipped out of bed, turned on the computer, and wrote until 4 a.m. When Alan woke up and called me, I went back to bed—and asleep this time—for two hours. The dragons were finally tired. They slept.

Me? I woke up embarrassed. I write blogs about slaying dragons. I post Jesus’ words, “Be anxious for nothing.” I post reminders on social media that the Bible contains 365 “fear nots,” one for each day of the year. And, yet, last night the dragons nearly won.

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