As in, I got a dose of it. More like a pie in the face, from God. I needed and deserved it, for sure. Let me unpack this. I woke up this morning with a stinging, burning, stiff left foot and achy body. This is Monday and on Saturday I hiked a half a mile or so at Spirit Mound. https://www.nps.gov/lecl/learn/historyculture/spirit-mound.htm
It’s a historic prairie, preserved by the National Park Service, just north of Vermillion, SD and one of our favorite spots. Six months after foot and ankle surgery, I’m always trying to push the recovery and I guess I pushed it a little too much. I’m irritated by that because like most Americans I want instant results. My surgeon and physical therapist told me that full recovery after major foot and ankle surgery would take a year. Well pish tosh! I’m used to being very active, have 20+ pounds to lose after very little activity for the last six months and want to get on with things. Such as life.
Not so fast! Apparently my body isn’t in line with my spirit. Yeah, I know…the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. Right. In Spades, FFS… Anyway, feeling cranky and hurting, messing with two recalcitrant Rat Terriers who want to walk, run, and screw around, needing to stop at the tire & oil shop for a lug nut check on the Mustang, needing to go to Costco, a writing promo project to finish and 90+ degree temps and high humidity, I was not a happy camper.
While the techs took care of the Mustang I chatted with a couple of the front end guys who are my buddies. I asked Ben, “Hey, how’s your daughter Cheyenne doing?” His face kind of fell after the fun of our banter about my morning and my guns and whatever, and he replied, “Well the cancer’s terminal, but we’re praying that we’ll have a couple of years with her.”
How’s that for a gut check? He proceeded to tell me how hard it was to get the medical establishment to listen to him, to get the things she needed, and the struggle of trying to make her final days more than chemo and blood transfusions. He shared about the expenses, the hardships, and all at once my morning gripes and irritations seemed like the good life.
Which, of course, they are. How could I, blessed as I am with a wonderful husband, two great sons, their wives and families (our precious grandkids), the freedom to “do my own thing” unencumbered by anything more than recovering from a successful surgery, with a fun Mustang to call my own, have such a self-centered, ungrateful attitude?
I know, I know…it’s easy to get lost in our own issues and wrapped up in ourselves. We all have problems and things we have to deal with and it’s easy to become, I guess the only word I can come up with is ungrateful. Needless to say, I found myself chastised this morning. Of course, I know that life can change in a heartbeat. None of us is promised tomorrow, or the equivalent of “happy trails.” But wow, I’m going to remember this day and the look of quiet desperation in my friend Ben’s eyes. I will be praying for Cheyenne and their entire family.
From this point on, simply call me GRATEFUL.
The ROWAN MILANI CHRONICLES 