I know. Just shut up & listen.

Once again I've broken my left foot. In case you've lost count that means it's the FOURTH TIME, although it's over eight years since the last one. In November, while filling the bird bath, I dropped a bottle of water on my left second toe. Buddy taped it, carried on with the busy season. By January it wasn't better, taped a different way, still took another couple months before feeling better. But hey, it was just a toe. In April I started walking more normally, but must have been rolling my foot outward to avoid the toe, so got a stress fracture in the 5th metacarpal at the cuboid. (That's the bump that sticks out on the outside of your foot.) People's response is typically 'oh, it's only a stress fracture!', since that normally isn't as big a deal. But it is a big deal when you have osteopenia, are on chronic steroids, live by yourself and, in case you forgot already, have broken the same foot three times before, including the 5th metatarsal. 

I've faithfully worn the boot for over 6 weeks, but the fracture site still aches. I use a cane, and the knee scooter which was wisely kept, whenever outside the house. Mostly I stay home, order from Giant and Chewy, and participate in things on Zoom. I even stopped filling the bird feeder, because it's on an incline and hurts to get out there. Found people for increased cleaning & outside help but they want a minimum of 2 hours. I'm not disabled enough or sick enough to have a home health aide, plus they require a certain number of hours per visit. Living in a retirement community isn't the best place to find neighbors to help, the people that surround me are either years older, compromised themselves or have sick spouses. Yet there are things which need to be done when you live alone, including making meals, taking care of the cats (Spice and now Sweet Pea, who is more like an expensive house guest than an adoption), getting the mail or packages inside the house, putting deliveries away, getting stuff from the garage, even just moving things from room to room. There is little more that can be done to stay off of the damn foot. 

What is prompting this missive is my increasing aggravation of being told how 'lucky' I am, and even the tiniest complaint being met with a litany of things to be grateful for: it's my left foot so I can still drive, I don't work, have insurance, can use all four limbs, 'at least there's Zoom', have a one-floor house.....  Almost every person want to remind me of how lucky I am the second I mention anything difficult, because apparently you aren't allowed to be anything other than constantly positive & upbeat.

I'm a big one for being grateful. If you look back to the 2009-2010 era I talk about establishing a gratitude practice, using beads to count my blessings every night, and that practice has continued through the present. I am very, very aware of my blessings: steady income from disability, Medicare, supplemental insurance, use of my brain, able to take care of myself, my own house & car, live in a safe neighborhood and, my perennial favorite, indoor plumbing. All of these things are true, and leave me much better off than, literally, billions of people in the world. Yes, I know. 

Remembering those less fortunate doesn't made a difference when you're dealing with your issues on a minute-to-minute basis.  Knowing how lucky I am to live in an area that isn't being bombed or dealing with famine does not make it any easier to walk up a flight of stairs and struggling to breathe. Here's a fact: you can be grateful for your blessings, but it doesn't make your problems disappear, it just helps keep things in perspective over the long run. 

For over a decade and a half I've dealt with the sequalae of my disabilities, knowing it will never be possible for me to go many places or do a lot of things other people do without a thought. I wistfully wonder what it would be like to have the energy to do anything I wanted like other people seem to be able to do. I wonder what it would be like to be able to make plans for an activity that takes more than a couple hours or raises your pulse for more than ten seconds. What's it like to go for a walk and not have to think about if there's a nearby bathroom or if you have to wear a diaper for just in case? (Amazingly, part of what makes walks in nature so awesome is a lack of buildings, ergo no toilets.) How marvelous to go for a hike and not worry about balancing your need for water with the resulting peeing. How terrific it must be to be able to stay overnight somewhere without lugging around a wedge for the bed, several pillows, CPAP with water, portable sound machine & fan, striking the fear of God into hosts who think that amount of luggage means you're moving in for weeks. Hearing about people who do something in the morning, afternoon AND evening--I get to choose one of those on a good day. I've had to accept that having chronic debilitating diseases means I can't do much of what 'normal' people take for granted, like climbing stairs without being out of breath, going more than two hours without a need for a bathroom, or getting through a day without lying on the couch for a couple hours. It took years for me to work through and deal with my anger and resentment about what I couldn't do, can't do and will never be able to do physically. Now I just sigh and wonder what it would be like to be healthy. And I don't complain, don't get angry, just accept. And, occasionally, wonder wistfully.

And then something more goes wrong, and now I can't take 50 steps round trip to fill the damn bird feeder that gives Spice and me so much entertainment. Or fill the bird bath or care for the spring flowers that a friend got into containers for me. And, briefly, I'll whine. Because it's ONE MORE FUCKING THING. I've developed coping mechanisms and acceptance of so much, so yes, I am very resentful, and sometimes downright angry, when something happens which requires more changes on top of the adaptations for every other fucking thing I'm dealing with physically, every hour of every day, which will last for the rest of my life. 

How much more can one person be expected to cope with and adjust to in this world? When, I ask the Universe, is enough enough?

But then, typically within minutes or even seconds, I'll remind myself of all the things I can do that millions can't, and send up an apology and prayer of gratitude, cognizant that things could be so much worse. But sometimes, every once in a while, everything just seems overwhelming and I will whine in those break-throughs of frustration to someone who will invariably say in a very sincere tone of voice 'But you're still so lucky because.......'   

I FUCKING KNOW, just give me a couple of minutes to vent, will you? Without your 'helpful' reminders and sanctimonious tone trying to give me 'perspective'. JUST LET ME WHINE! I fucking deserve to complain because IT'S ONE MORE DAMN THING on top of all the other damn things that I've accepted, with what I'd like to think is remarkable stoicism, for the most part (not including this rant!. Will you just shut up & listen?

And while I'm on a roll here's another issue: I'm not asking you to fix things. My least favorite phrase in this situation starts with "You know what you should do? You should _________"  DO NOT TELL ME WHAT I 'SHOULD' DO, most likely without a complete understanding of the other issues that complicate the matter, or a recognition that spending my days at home means I've had lots of time to come up with solutions that, for various reasons, will not make a difference. All I want is to vent and get a little sympathy. Not told how lucky I am, to be grateful that there isn't more wrong, not told 'be positive, not told what I 'should' do, not told 'well, at least....'

There's an interesting part in the story of Job that people forget. After all the horrible things happen his friends gather around and, for seven days and seven nights, they just sit with him in silent commiseration. But after this period of support the friends start with 'What did you do wrong to deserve this?' "Behold, happy is the man whom God correcteth; therefore despise not thou the chastening of the Almighty" and other unhelpful phrases. In frustration, by chapter 16, Job yells at them 'miserable comforters are ye all!" What this proves is that this behavior of people not being able to just quietly listen and say 'Gee, that sucks, I'm sorry' has been going on for thousands of years, so maybe it's just human nature.  

Therefore, my 'lesson' from this posting is: let people get away with a little whining occasionally. Not wallowing for days on end, not an endless stream of 'woe is me', just voicing frustration. Because chances are that you don't know everything that has lead up to their need to just bitch about something for a short time. Just listen, murmur sympathetically, and commiserate. I'm not expecting any epiphanies or words of wisdom. Just shut up and listen. 

Here's a thought: if it's you who needs to release some pressure then start off with that: 'I don't need a solution. I don't need to 'put things in perspective', I just need to vent.' Maybe, if enough people start doing this, we can break the chain of thousands of years of unhelpful 'But it could be worse!' 

I know. Just shut up and listen.