Visited our friend Susan yesterday. She’s been off work since late January and will be back under the knife in a week or so. She’s had a couple of operations in the past couple of years, and for a while she was getting better.
The specialists aren’t entirely sure how to fix her so the surgery will be exploratory with the understanding that if they see something they can fix they’ll do it, but if they can’t find anything then.. well that’s all they can do for her.
It’s hard to see such a bright and fun young woman suffering so much pain.
On the way home I started pondering my own life in comparison to others (yes, I know, a typical response). From my Uncle Dave who, despite suffering from Parkinsons, is always cheery and ready with a smile and a wry observation to my tequila-slamming, glitzy girly friend who refuses to let her ills beat her and suffers largely in silence, the people I know who complain the least are those suffering the most.
I was going to close this post with a statement to those who rant and bitch and moan about the trivial and unimportant. I include myself in that category. But I fear I’d end up tripping over platitudes and qualifications to any kind of statement I would make. Our ability to see things from our own unique perspective is what makes humankind so fascinating after all.
So I’ll dispense with the niceties and the “ohh I didn’t mean you particularly” worries, and just say it. Take from it what you will.
A lot of people who live in nice houses, have nice things, and most importantly have their health, may want to take a step back before their next moan or rant. I exclude no-one from that statement. Especially myself.