It could always be worse

This evening I was hanging out talking with my friend Kevin, the disability coordinator for NORML (National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws). Kevin was a special forces medic in the army for 14 years. While he was serving in Iraq, he lost both legs in an explosion. He also suffered some brain damage and severe injury to his spine. He's in a wheelchair. He's in constant searing pain.

I asked him how he was feeling tonight. He just got a brand new electric wheelchair, which is great, but he sits in it a little differently, so he's in quite a bit more pain. It still needs some breaking in, he told me.

He's also been doing more work on the computer, so his shoulder is bothering him. He just saw his doc today who increased his pain meds higher than he would like. Yes, he has to use both opiates and medical marijuana just to keep the pain at a manageable level.

When I see Keven, I always gently stroke his back a little, but never too hard. I try to be mindful of his pain, wanting to never make it any worse. (I watched him cringe once when someone walked by and gave him a friendly slap on the back.)

Kevin could be angry, depressed, or moody. He could sit around whining and complaining about the hand that God dealt him and how unfair it is. And who could blame him? I mean, he's got it pretty bad. Maybe he indulges in pity in private, but I've never seen him like that. In fact, he told me that he spent 2 years in the hospital with guys much worse off than he was.

"It could always be worse," he said. "When I'm having a bad day, I just remember the other guys I saw. No matter what, it could always be worse."

Lord, when I think my life is unfair, when I'm in pain or having a bad day, give me the strength and the will to remember how fortunate I am and that no matter what, it could always be worse.

Comments

[perpetualspiral]

That is very true. When I see things like this though, I always feel the need to point out the flip-side. We need to grieve our own pain and suffering and loss, no matter how much worse it could be. Invalidating our experience by pushing it away with thoughts such as "It could be worse" isn't good. There's a balance we need to find between healthy grief and staying stuck in the victim role, don't you think? You friend sounds truly inspirational! :D

[TezInDenver]

Thanks for your comment, perpetualspiral.

I totally understand what you mean; however, far too often we indulge in self-pity far too much, wallowing in our own misery far too long. My friend Kevin is honest about what happened to him and what he lost, but he still gets up and out the door every day. On those days when I'm hurting or tired, his story is a good reminder for me to acknowledge how my body feels, and to be grateful for what I still have and what I can still do. I know others with fibro who can barely get out of bed. I remember what it was like before I had an understanding of what was happening to my body and how to manage it. I remember when fibro was how I identified myself. I know it can always be worse, and I don't want to go back to that place.