bruiser
New member
[Here's a "feel good" essay, excerpted from "What's Right with Me?", an article by Raymond Lesser that shines the spotlight on a more positive way to think about ourselves, especially as we grow older and convince ourselves that we have a right to complain ...]
People go to the doctor and ask the wrong question: "What's wrong with me?" Hey, the doctor will always find something wrong with you if that's what you ask for. If everyone were perfectly "healthy," he wouldn't be able to make payments on his BMW, his sailboat, or his ski chalet on Lake Louise.
No, the question you should be asking is: "What's right with me?" None of us is perfect. You see these young kids, invincible, foolhardy, going hang-gliding, surfing, and rollerblading. Sure they start out in great shape, but when you're always pushing the envelope you keep getting paper cuts. They have their aches and pains too, but they don't go running to the doctor every time they have a hangnail or a dislocated knee.
But when we get older we know so many horror stories of perfectly healthy people who suddenly bit the dust after, for example, getting stung by a mosquito while they were on safari in Africa. Hypochondria improves with age. But do you really want to wind up as a 95-year-old geezer who's afraid to eat a fresh peach because he once knew a guy who choked on a pit? You can't be afraid of life or you ain't living.
So I start out each day by going over what's right with me. I sit up in bed and think, "Wow, this is pretty amazing. Victory number one of the day." I count my fingers and toes and am happy to see that they all appear to be there. Then it's time to stand up. This can be a huge accomplishment on some mornings, so I'm really proud when I get to the tip of my stature and look down and see how far I have managed to lift my head off the ground with my legs.
I start counting my blessings. I've got a roof over my head, a little leaky in spots, but what the heck, someone needs to keep the roofers in business. The sun is still shining, the powers-that-be have managed to get through another night without blowing everything up in their never ending quest for more, more, more. I go to the bathroom and find that I have hot and cold running water in the shower. I have electric lights and an electric fan to blow the steamy air out of the bathroom so I can see myself in the mirror. Still there! The man in the mirror still has a few hairs left on his head, at least on the sides of his head, which keeps his ears from sticking out so far.
I do a thorough accounting of my body. My skin is still doing a terrific job of constraining all my blood and guts, my nails are still nice and sharp and able to pick my nose or anything else they might like to scratch at. My nose has no trouble detecting the odor of the garbage I should have taken out last night. My tongue can easily detect that the coffee was too hot to drink after the very first sip. I can feel the pains in many parts of my body, my ankles, knees, hips, neck, and other joints, which lets me know that my nervous system is still functioning at a very high level. All the pains seem to meld into one fine burn which, along with the coffee, is doing a wonderful job of making me wide awake and ready for a new day.
Yes, Doctor, I feel great! I feel absolutely alive! -- (The Funny Times, February 2014)
People go to the doctor and ask the wrong question: "What's wrong with me?" Hey, the doctor will always find something wrong with you if that's what you ask for. If everyone were perfectly "healthy," he wouldn't be able to make payments on his BMW, his sailboat, or his ski chalet on Lake Louise.
No, the question you should be asking is: "What's right with me?" None of us is perfect. You see these young kids, invincible, foolhardy, going hang-gliding, surfing, and rollerblading. Sure they start out in great shape, but when you're always pushing the envelope you keep getting paper cuts. They have their aches and pains too, but they don't go running to the doctor every time they have a hangnail or a dislocated knee.
But when we get older we know so many horror stories of perfectly healthy people who suddenly bit the dust after, for example, getting stung by a mosquito while they were on safari in Africa. Hypochondria improves with age. But do you really want to wind up as a 95-year-old geezer who's afraid to eat a fresh peach because he once knew a guy who choked on a pit? You can't be afraid of life or you ain't living.
So I start out each day by going over what's right with me. I sit up in bed and think, "Wow, this is pretty amazing. Victory number one of the day." I count my fingers and toes and am happy to see that they all appear to be there. Then it's time to stand up. This can be a huge accomplishment on some mornings, so I'm really proud when I get to the tip of my stature and look down and see how far I have managed to lift my head off the ground with my legs.
I start counting my blessings. I've got a roof over my head, a little leaky in spots, but what the heck, someone needs to keep the roofers in business. The sun is still shining, the powers-that-be have managed to get through another night without blowing everything up in their never ending quest for more, more, more. I go to the bathroom and find that I have hot and cold running water in the shower. I have electric lights and an electric fan to blow the steamy air out of the bathroom so I can see myself in the mirror. Still there! The man in the mirror still has a few hairs left on his head, at least on the sides of his head, which keeps his ears from sticking out so far.
I do a thorough accounting of my body. My skin is still doing a terrific job of constraining all my blood and guts, my nails are still nice and sharp and able to pick my nose or anything else they might like to scratch at. My nose has no trouble detecting the odor of the garbage I should have taken out last night. My tongue can easily detect that the coffee was too hot to drink after the very first sip. I can feel the pains in many parts of my body, my ankles, knees, hips, neck, and other joints, which lets me know that my nervous system is still functioning at a very high level. All the pains seem to meld into one fine burn which, along with the coffee, is doing a wonderful job of making me wide awake and ready for a new day.
Yes, Doctor, I feel great! I feel absolutely alive! -- (The Funny Times, February 2014)
I just figure that I've got to get my butt off to work!! :shocked: :gaah:
