A birthday
present to myself
For the entire day today, and
perhaps throughout the weekend or longer if I can subdue my natural (or is it
learned) character, I vow that I will accept all of the kindness, generosity,
love and care given to me on this day and every day forward without guilt or a
feeling of obligation.
I am awash in gratefulness. I
accept the gifts of the universe unconditionally.
Thank you.
Some of you may also have a
similar character. You may feel guilty or obligated if someone does something unexpectedly
nice or generous for you. You may even have trouble accepting praise or simple compliments.
Instinctively, we know that it is just as important to receive, as it is to
give. Giving, we all agree makes us feel good – and we probably don't do enough
of it. There is intrinsic value that comes from giving. Receiving, however, is sometimes
harder to accept and perhaps understand. Weird, isn't it? What are we afraid
of?
Now, this may not seem so
remarkable to most of you, but indulge me for a minute while I try to explain
why this simple concept is so difficult for Me to accept.
As you know, I live with ALS –
seven years now. I have an active mind, trapped in a frozen body. I face complete
dependence every minute, where I was once proudly 100% independent. Empathize
with me for a minute, think about what it means to be dependent on other people
and machines for even the simplest things.
I'm grateful for the machines and
equipment that have come to me through my medical insurance and doctors. I
receive their functionality as graciously as possible. My wheelchair, the Hoyer
lift, the humidifier, the air conditioner, the hospital bed, my computer and my
TV – it all makes my life more comfortable. I find myself wanting to thank these
objects and do something for them in return. For example, I need a ventilator
to breathe. It's a machine though, so there is no need to thank it for doing
its job. The funny thing is I do anyway.
"Thank you, Resperonics
Trilogy – please keep working..." I find myself thinking before falling
asleep. "Perhaps you need your filter changed or a good cleaning."
Am I crazy?
Then, more importantly, there are
the people in my life that keep me living and support me in my journey to stay
positive.
If I have an itch, I have to ask
someone to scratch it for me. When my body starts to ache from being in the
same position for too long, someone needs to flip me over or move my body parts.
If I want to change the TV program and look for something else to watch,
someone else's fingers have to do the channel surfing for me. If I'm hungry or
thirsty, someone has to feed me or give me liquids through a straw. If I'm hot,
someone has to open the window or turn on the AC. If my computer crashes,
someone has to reboot the darn machine. If a picture frame on my bedroom wall
is crooked, someone has to straighten it for me.
My primary caregivers, my wife
and son, do everything for me – 24/7 – before ALS, they were just my wife and
son. Now, they have the additional title as my caregivers. Their
responsibilities and role in my life has greatly expanded. Talk about role
reversal... My wife brushes my teeth every day and helps me with the toilet and
countless other things, too numerous to mention here. My son stretches my arms
and legs so that they don't cramp. He sacrifices his Saturday afternoons and
Sunday mornings to stay with me so that his mother can take a break and go
shopping, run errands or get a haircut. He brings me rotisserie chicken from
Costco and chocolate shakes from McDonalds.
My paid caregivers, who are
really like family to me, do so much as well – watching me during the day, so
my wife and son can continue to work and get some much-needed respite. Josie
keeps me clean and comfortable during the day. I love a warm washcloth rubbed
over my face, eyes, mouth, arms and legs. She keeps our house clean and makes
sure that I drink enough water, take my medicine, and stop and rest every so often
when I become too absorbed in my computer and writing. Another caregiver gives
me an excellent sponge bath once a week.
And then, there are my friends
who supplement my care with friendship, bringing comfort food, laughter,
prayers and joy into my life. My friend Beverly has found the perfect length of
flexible plastic straw for us to use, making drinking easier for all of us –
what a relief that was. My other friend makes sure that I stay up on the
current movies, and another encourages me to continue with my weekly DVD Reviews
blog. My friend Bob comes over every Wednesday and make sure that I go outside
and get some fresh air and sunshine. Friends, both longtime and new, visit me
when I'm up to it and have the energy, bringing laughter and news of the
outside world. The social aspect of being with others, with people that you
like and enjoy, has become more important and precious for me these last seven
years. And of course, everyone encourages me to continue with my writing.
So, what's the problem, you are
thinking.
To my friends and caregivers who
visit me regularly, I know it's difficult for you to spend your energy and time
with me. You all have full and busy lives, work and families that you need to
tend too. That's why I often feel guilt or a sense of obligation, when you
visit or do something special for me. I feel obligated to reciprocate. You give
me so much and all I do is take. I want to be able to give back as much as I
can, and more. Tell me what more I can do, than simply say, "I'm grateful,
and thank you."
I feel guilty that I am a burden
to my family, especially to my wife and son. I often think that their lives
would be so much easier without me. They would have free time, more energy and
more money to do the fun things that make life worth living – a nice life
insurance check would be theirs to spend. Of course, they would never agree to
this, and they would never say that I am a burden. I know that they take care
of me because of the deep love that they have for me and each other – LOVE.
We loved each other before ALS
came along, but I don't think we knew that love was such a powerful force.
The other night a flying termite
landed on my bare leg. It was late at night. My wife was getting some
much-needed sleep – for the last three years she has slept on the floor next to
my hospital bed. I watched the bug and felt it crawl across my skin for as long
as I could, before gently saying, "Sweetheart, I'm sorry to wake you, but
would you please get rid of this bug crawling up my leg." She woke up,
turned on the light and sleepily brushed away the insect. She adjusted my
pillows without speaking, smiled at me and turned off the light. I felt that
deep love. I knew then that I wanted to live as long as possible so that I
could feel it again and again.
It may sound like a simple
concept – accepting gifts of kindness and generosity from others without
feeling guilty or obligated – but it was not that simple until I realized that
the key to receiving is to feel the love. Today, I give myself that gift.
