BY JOELLEN COLLINS
I usually focus on bigger items facing someone in my position: my family and friends and my use of time physically, emotionally, creatively, intellectually and spiritually. In short, I aim to keep positive in this complex and often negative time, so I was surprised when the idea for this column hit me at 8 this morning. Early today, the small event, which I had not experienced for a while, was taking my two small dogs outside, an occasion that brought me more joy than I could have imagined. For six weeks I have relied upon the help of friends and a professional dog-walker to allow my doggies to have regular walks and exercise without pulling me and my walker or cane down with me, potentially negating the surgery done on my foot and my six-week recovery from a painful but not life-threatening procedure. During this time I have heightened my empathetic view about my fellows who live with much more serious concerns, people I certainly have tried to keep at the forefront of my mind most of my life. However, this particular experience has given me pause to be thankful for the more simple things I can enjoy. The first morning after learning that I no longer need a cane, I reveled in a long shower, not feeling guilty about the time under water since it had been so long since I had felt those warm drops on my back. My next happy moments came when I realized how wonderful it felt to walk on both feet, equally distributing my weight. How much simpler it was to get my morning coffee from the counter to the table without fear of spilling; how much easier to get dressed, to put on sock without having to change dressings, or even to sit in my office chair and write this column without having to prop up my healing limb! I know that these newly appreciated delights will fall back into the grey mundanities of everyday-life routines and I will probably not make such a big deal out of these simple pleasures. However, I hope that I will always remember to understand others who have obstacles to enjoying some of these little rewards: those with disabilities that impede walking or seeing or hearing as easily as I can. I especially think about those with pain that doesn’t go away with a Tylenol or Ibuprofen, or even with the best of healthy activities like working with a physical therapist or using healing skills like meditation and contemplation The intense but brief pain I endured in only a small part of my body reminded me to be thankful every day that it is gone and that, God willing, my age, accident, or any unexpected injury does not cause me the kind of unremitting pain I know others experience without relief. I am grateful today that my medicine drawer remains unopened, a slight but blessed small thing.
