So You Think You've Got It Tough

A Stodghill Says So blog:

A notice came today from Social Security saying I would receive a $250 check next month as my share of the Stimulus Bill. Not on par with the bonus of an AIG executive, yet nothing to sneeze at.
I walked out to where Jackie was toiling over the income and outgo books and said, "I'm getting $250."
"No you're not."
I showed her the letter. "It says so right here. See?"
"What it means is, the general fund is getting $250. So that you'll feel good, when it arrives I'll add five dollars to your $15 weekly allowance. Just that week, of course."
I'll say one thing, I never lost $245 so fast in my life.
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The news says the country is being overrun by bedbugs. The best place to find them is at a hotel. I have never seen a bedbug and hope to keep it that way, but an old friend from Muncie grew up with them. They are smart little critters. When his mother placed a can filled with water under every leg of his bed, these not-so-dumb bugs would crawl up the wall and out onto the ceiling. When they were positioned over his bed, they'd let go.
My friend was black, a United Methodist minister and a civil rights activist. We met because I covered the "do-gooder" beat when I first arrived in Muncie. He was seen as the cause of racial problems in the city. Actually he was the solution if people had possessed the sense to see it. Few did.
His grandfather had been burned at the stake in Alabama and his father lynched there for a crime he didn't commit. His mother took the family north to the tough little town of Martins Ferry, Ohio. His 12-year-old sister was raped and thrown into the Ohio River to drown.
He wrote a book about his mother and named it for her, Lillie. She taught herself to read by studying the Martins Ferry newspaper every day. To support her family she walked across a railroad trestle to a maid's job in Wheeling, West Virginia. That was OK unless a train came along. She put both of her sons through college. My friend graduated from Ohio Wesleyan.
Quite a woman, Lillie. The only obstacle she couldn't overcome was those bedbugs. A minor problem, all things considered.

That is a great story Dick. I love those survivor stories.

Nope, I haven't got it too tough.

Enjoy your extra five dollars.

Carol

I have big plans for that five dollars, Carol.

No matter how bad you think you've got it, there's virtually aways someone who has it worse.

My mother would always remind us kids that we had it pretty good. She would always tell a whiner "I cried because I had no shoes, until I saw a man who had no feet."

I'll bet it is something her mother told her, and I used it for my daughter when she wanted designer jeans that I couldn't afford.

That's a great post Dick. You certainly have met some fascinating people -- I really love people stories, even the sad ones. If people could just the strength in folks, and realize that there is always someone who has it worse.

Toward the end of the afternoon today I was talking to a fellow who is currently off work because of an illness. To add insult to injury, his wife has split, and moved herself and their two kids into someone else's place...an old boyfriend that she reconnected with online. Poor sod was down in the park dirinking rum and having a smoke when I called him to see how things were going ...

Sounds like that old country song, "You picked a fine time to leave me, Lucille."

And there is good stuff that happens in tough times. You get cards; connect with relatives and friends; find out you can endure what you never thought you could; laugh at silly things; really enjoy sunsets and sunrises; stop being fearful in elevators because when you can't walk upstairs they are your friends; think highly of those wonderful people who fought for laws for accessibility; and on and on.

One day I saw a man in church with his walker standing in the aisle. He had difficulty standing and his wife was helping him, but still it was difficult.

I did not know what his trouble was, but after church I walked up to him and said, "Six months ago I couldn't walk and had difficulties as you do."

He told me he had ALS. He also said he had come to the place we were for treatment and it was helping him a great deal. I wished him well.

I thought of Rainbow and how I only had cancer.

But if my caregiver had left me, I probably wouldn't be here.

Carol

zadaconnaway wrote:

My mother would always remind us kids that we had it pretty good. She would always tell a whiner "I cried because I had no shoes, until I saw a man who had no feet."

I'll bet it is something her mother told her, and I used it for my daughter when she wanted designer jeans that I couldn't afford.

The kids are very spoilt nowadays.

I read somewhere that parents nowadays worry about making their children happy, but often this does not do them any favors, that then they need to learn to deal with unhappiness, with difficulties. Happy childhoods are nice to have, but even with happy childhoods there are difficulties along the way.

I was protected from difficulties at home, but I still knew they were there, and even finding them out later is much better than always wondering what was really going on.

We don't have to tell kids everything, but they learn a lot more from reality of life, good and bad.

Carol

When I was having my worst breathing issues from radiation hitting part of my lung and heart, climbing the stairs at my apartment complex was a chore. I'd take one step up, then count to ten to regain my breath. Then one step up, count to ten, etc.

A friend asked me why I didn't move to a complex that didn't have stairs as it would be so much easier. I replied, "Even though I don't like going up the stairs, and it is difficult for me, if I moved to an apartment complex without stairs, I may not be able to climb stairs again. Since I am forced to climb them every day, I believe it is helping me to not slack off and be less active."

Today, of course, the stairs are not the issue they once were. Yea!

I think that was a wise move, Merri. With my wrecked ankle and bad knees, the shrink asked if I wouldn't like to have a wheel chair. I told him 'no, I don't want to be chained to a wheel chair for the rest of my life.'

In keeping with that, I take the cows their grain and hay in the morning, and help out all I can outside. Of course, Al watches out so I don't get to say 'Help, I've fallen and I can't get up'!

I do fall on occasion (bad balance when I have to bend over and pick stuff up off the ground) but have learned several methods for getting back up! Being outside and working has been good for me, and I stay active and somewhat limber that way. I just go at it a lot slower than I used to.

Good for you, Zada! I'm slower than I used to be, too, and I do some things in a different way or need to take breaks occasionally when doing tasks.

I've seen both my mom and dad lose a lot of their independence. Some of this was necessary, i.e., my mom was falling asleep while stopped at a stoplight in the car, so driving is not something she should be doing. On the other hand, my dad had a stroke and took part in physical, occupational and speech therapy and was bouncing back very well. Then he decides to stop all three therapies and he regressed. If he had continued the therapy, he would at least have maintained the progress he had made. It was his choice, but it made it necessary (as his mobility and functioning declined) to have him move to an adult family home nearby my mom's home.

Keep as active as you can is my motto!

My husband cut up four two inch boards. I began with one board stepping up and down about 25 times each day. That was all I can do. Then he added a second board and then snuck in a third. I never got to the fourth because that is the height of a regular stair and after three boards, I could climb stairs but with difficulty.

And he wouldn't let me believe I couldn't do it.

But I couldn't fall, because I was on blood thinners and that could cause trouble. I did once, trying to pick up something. I didn't know how any longer. But now I know I have to bend my knees. The nerves to my legs were disconnected and as they reconnected the messages again went between my brain and legs. It was a very strange experience, like I had forgotten everything I had learned when I was two years old.

Carol

Great idea to step up and down on the boards, Carol. I can't imagine what it must have been like relearning how to walk again. You are amazing!