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Several years ago, I had a minor crisis of Faith... actually, let's call it a crisette -- not to be confused with a croissant, which may be a delicious thing to assimilate while trying to assimilate the crisette.
I am paraplegic (since '85) due to MS (diagnosed '80), and because I am basically incontinent, I wear an external catheter and a leg bag when out, and I use a bedside drain bag when I sleep. And because I don't shift much when I sleep (especially since I tie my legs togeter to control spasms and to give me a handle when I get up), I used to keep a Roho cushion under the sheet at the foot of my bed to prevent me from getting decubitus ulcers on my heels (now I wear heel-elevating boots and I need attendants to get me up and ready for work). Well, one night, I woke up from the discomfort of heel pressure because the cushion was going flat (I do have some sensation). It was uncomfortable, but not critical -- until I noticed the puddle on the carpet next to me!
The cushion wasn't the only thing leaking.
The 2,000 cc drain bag hanging on my wheelchair next to the bed was steadily dripping its contents onto my carpet. Since I had only been asleep a couple of hours, there were only a couple of hundred cc's in the bag and less than half that had dripped on the carpet, but the combination of the puddle and my sore heels drove me to look up to plaintively ask:
"Why? Don't I have enough to deal with?"
Grumbling and groaning like a stereotypical crotchety old man, I threw back my comforter to expose myself to the deliberately chilly room, and I levered myself out of bed and back into my chair for the multiple tasks of changing bags, sopping up the urine, cleaning the carpet, and finally over-inflating the cushion slightly so it would stay filled for the rest of my night. An hour later, exhausted and still indignant, I lay there conveniently ignoring the blissful relief of my feet and the snug comforter warming me.
"Why? Don't I have enough to deal with?"
Finally I calmed down and saw the light. Consider a possible alternative: the cushion stayed nicely inflated and I sleep on blissfully to wake with the entire contents of the bedside bag soaking the carpet next to my bed -- on average, there are 1,400 to 1,800 cc's in the bag by the time I get up for work! Or what if I had a spinal injury and did not have any sensation below the waist? Same result.
Reorientation time.
No, there was need to complain. Instead, it was time for another prayer of thankfulness. Once again, I had been looked out for by God's good graces and spared a major clean-up task in exchange for a few minutes inconvenience. All I had been forced to deal with had been a small wet spot on the carpet that paper towel and spray cleaner had taken care of.
It was a little reminder of one of the life-lessons I have finally learned and which I am forever telling other people to embrace: always strive to find the positive in anything that happens. Do not focus on what has been lost and what can not be done, instead, concentrate on what you do have, and what you are able to do. And thank God for those gifts.
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