How was your morning?
November 29, 2016
The problems of the elderly don't just happen overnight. They take weeks, months and even years to develop. I was thinking about this yesterday morning when Riley — our puppy with the voice of a much bigger dog — woke me at 4 a.m. in the morning.
Being an early riser, I did what I do each day; taking off my nightgown, getting into my clothes for the day into the bathroom to do the things one usually does in the morning. In my case it included taking three pills, one a rather strong pain medication.
Riley was patiently waiting for his morning duties. We headed to the back door so that he could go out into the backyard.
Then I made a beeline for the kitchen and coffee. There I was, holding my cane and glasses so I could view my favorite early morning thirty-year-old game shows, a cup of coffee and a treat for Riley. How I made it to the sofa I don't know. I was in considerable pain. As I was about to leave the kitchen our other puppy, Molly, came into the room and I almost tripped over her.
Instead, I twisted myself in an awkward position and let out a yell. The arthritis in my shoulder was also yelling back. It really hurt as tears ran down my face. I finally got to the sofa, turned on my shows, sipped at that nice warm liquid, and thought about what my doctor had said: "count your blessings." Yeah, I thought, "How about you walk in my shoes for a change?"
Being old one should have learned patience, but I don't always feel like sitting down and writing 10 blessings every morning. Then I noticed a piece of notepaper sitting on the little table beside where I park my skinny butt every morning. I picked it up and began to read. It was an E-mail that had been sent to the paper by a reader who said she enjoyed my column.
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There is no doubt this lady had a sense of humor; the note was just wonderful. Suddenly it didn't matter about the pains in the back, that damned shoulder and my left wrist. I had to smile. The day had begun poorly but was getting much better. Wouldn't you know when I turned on television they were showing an old movie about a doctor.
Watching TV a while, I thought; "Would I like to walk in my doctor's shoes, for even a day?" I don't think so. How would you like to have to tell somebody that they have only six months to live, or put up with a howling baby, being bitten on your fingers as you tried to check a young child's tonsils, or put up with a cranky old lady like me every couple of months?
So, to all of my health care providers — I've got a couple — forgive me when at times I'm a royal pain, I'm just old and sometimes forget that you have a job I wouldn't want for anything in the world. Also included in the communiqué from that kind reader were a few remarks about advertising we have to put up with to watch our favorite TV shows.
This is one of my favorite complaints, although we all realize it's an absolute economic necessity. However — isn't there always an however — why don't some of these people do something to change their ads when you've been tortured watching the same commercial for years and years and years? I'm sure you know, like "what's her name, the singer" who's always telling how she lost 50 pounds. However, for her age, she still looks good.
Who can miss ads that talk about their car accident and didn't have the right coverage; they just had the wrong insurance company. Have you ever noticed some ads that you watch and wonder just what in the world they're advertising? Then, thank goodness, there's that one ad with a young lady dressed in a white outfit who always makes me laugh. It's another insurance ad.
However, I don't care. I really like her and watch this ad like I would a favorite TV show. One final note, don't forget to check the Banner Hospital gift shop for great Christmas gifts. While there, thank the hospital staff for all they do. Please visit those showing our wares Friday and Saturday at the old post office and the middle school.
God bless all!
Edna Van Leuven is a Churchill County writer and columnist. She may be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org