It's my birthday. Yep, the same week as Shakespeare and Carol Burnett and Barbra Streisand. It's a lot to live up to. And I'm now closer to 50 than 40, but I managed to get this far relatively unscathed. I've got four scars from surgery, nothing life threatening and no organs gone I can't live happily without. My bones are strong but I need bifocals. My skin is acting like it did when I was sixteen again - not a good thing. My knees creak and it's costs me an average of $40.00 a month to remain a natural blond.
But there is nothing wrong with me that a little primrose oil or Advil won't fix. And now that I have started doing research interviews for the play, I am incredibly thankful for that. I could have woken up from any of my surgeries with permanent pain, many have. My mom has migraines, I could have inherited that, most do. My knees creak but they still hold me up and take me through life one step at a time, and I can flex my neck and look up into the sky to make a wish on the first star of the night. Not everyone can still do that.
So I am thankful for everything I have. And I am amazed at the courage that people with chronic pain conditions show us. They have pain all the time, but they get up every morning, they face the day and they, too, put one foot in front of the other. And I'm sure they do it with less complaining than I do, most mornings.
I remember reading The Shell Seekers, and one of the children asked their mother how she was. She replied that she was breathing when she woke up that morning, so it was a good day. It's hard to be grateful for the little things, but I think we should all try hard to do so and let the people who are struggling with pain know how much we admire their courage.
And that we believe them.
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