I was at the other rehab on Monday. It had been a hard day and it was only 8:30AM. My liver hurt so much that morning, the car was out of gas, my computer had just crashed, there was no food in the house, I had to call the liver clinic, I didn’t get some medication I had ordered through the mail and was running out, Michael was still not well, traffic was a mess, I had a long list of things that I had to get done including yard work and I was already tired.
A bad day.
While working out on the arm bike, I was chatting with a woman I had seen but never have really met before. Within minutes, another woman stopped by to chat. For conversation, I half-laughed and said I was having a hard day: no gas, computer crashed and my liver hurt!
They asked about my oxygen and gave them the short version of what is wrong with my lungs.
The second lady was very polite, we chatted a few more moments then she turned to her friend. She told her that her mother had died and her sister was just diagnosed with breast cancer.
And I was whining about a computer crashing.
I apologized to her about whining, offered my condolences, gave her a hug then headed to the recumbent bike.
It was a very clear reminder to me to quit whining. I am alive. I am upright.
I am still in the category of the living.
Well.
With a bad diagnosis.
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