Originally written on Sunday, June 25, 2023, modified on Friday, September 22, 2023.
On complaining.I have devoted much thought to this over the last 31 years. What am I talking about? Complaining! And, by no means am I perfect when it comes to not doing this. Or, am I saying, that people don't have a right to have pet peeves, or to say when they're annoyed. What I am talking about is the bitching and groaning over every little thing that occurs in some person's life.
Okay, I get it. America is full of problems. The world is full of problems. Inflation is running rampant. Teachers are not teaching the right thing in schools. People are too lazy! Blah blah blah! A person can find anything to complain about.
Meanwhile, every day people are complaining about having to work too hard. The company that they work for doesn't pay enough money. How are they supposed to save enough so they can retire when they're 65? I have no idea what the percentage is, but somewhere around 95% of this country has to complain about something. Or at least try to look for something to complain about. Face it, it's the American way!
I'm sure you've got something to complain about. So how about you telling me what your complaint is? Seriously, I really want to know what problem is so bad in your life that it makes you miserable? Come on, tell Auntie Pat [inside joke] what's bothering you! Really, I'll listen…
Were you abused as a child? Did you not have a father figure in your life, or a mother figure for that matter? Did you have bad teachers in school? Is it their fault you have learned nothing? Were you bullied in class or after school? Did you grow up poor, not having the money to buy the same clothes your friends had?
You graduated high school, and you couldn't find a job? Assuming of course that you actually looked for a job. Or was it the job you found wouldn't pay you what you thought you deserved? Was your coworker a backstabber, and you got fired from your job? Or did the boss just not like you and promote someone that wasn't as qualified as you? Boo hoo hoo!
There are probably a million ways you can justify your complaint but I have one thing to say to you before I go on. Complaints happen to be just like excuses. Do you know what they say about excuses? Excuses are just like assholes, everybody's got one, and they all stink!
Okay, I get it. America is full of problems. The world is full of problems. Inflation is running rampant. Teachers are not teaching the right thing in schools. People are too lazy! Blah blah blah! A person can find anything to complain about.
Meanwhile, every day people are complaining about having to work too hard. The company that they work for doesn't pay enough money. How are they supposed to save enough so they can retire when they're 65? I have no idea what the percentage is, but somewhere around 95% of this country has to complain about something. Or at least try to look for something to complain about. Face it, it's the American way!
I'm sure you've got something to complain about. So how about you telling me what your complaint is? Seriously, I really want to know what problem is so bad in your life that it makes you miserable? Come on, tell Auntie Pat [inside joke] what's bothering you! Really, I'll listen…
Were you abused as a child? Did you not have a father figure in your life, or a mother figure for that matter? Did you have bad teachers in school? Is it their fault you have learned nothing? Were you bullied in class or after school? Did you grow up poor, not having the money to buy the same clothes your friends had?
You graduated high school, and you couldn't find a job? Assuming of course that you actually looked for a job. Or was it the job you found wouldn't pay you what you thought you deserved? Was your coworker a backstabber, and you got fired from your job? Or did the boss just not like you and promote someone that wasn't as qualified as you? Boo hoo hoo!
There are probably a million ways you can justify your complaint but I have one thing to say to you before I go on. Complaints happen to be just like excuses. Do you know what they say about excuses? Excuses are just like assholes, everybody's got one, and they all stink!
Background: I am a C-5 quadriplegic (complete). Broke my neck 31 years ago. Too long of a story to go into details. I am paralyzed from my shoulders to my toes. So this is my life…
Let me ask you this question: Would you allow me to switch places with you for a month? You can have a personal assistant, come on! It's only 30 days, what have you got to lose? I mean think about it. You can wake up in the morning, have somebody bring you breakfast, get you dressed, get you up, help you go through your day, help you back into the bed, and turn off the lights for you. What's not to like? Oh, and let's not forget, the person that's looking after all your needs, also gets to do the following (while you are being me):
Just for fun, you get to do "bowel program" a couple times a week. For the uninitiated that means taking a shit. So, after having a suppository inserted in your rectum, you wait in the bed for about half an hour until the suppository melts. You then get transferred to a commode/shower chair for about an hour, while your caregiver (remember that personal assistant?) does what is called a "digital stimulation" of your rectum (a gloved finger oscillating in your ass), approximately every 10 minutes. Oh, what joy! Once your bowels are voided you could then get the privilege of a shower (assuming that you feel up to it).
You can also have the comfort of knowing that you will probably have a recurring UTI. For the uninitiated, that is a urinary tract infection. Yes, you can take antibiotics, and the infection will (probably) go away for a bit. Then again it might return, because your insurance and the vendor it works with, will pay for three months of supplies, each time you order. The order will consist of the following: 6 night drainage bags, 6 leg bags, 3 extension tubes for the leg bags and, if needed, intermittent catheters and tubes of necessary lubrication.
You will be using the same urinary bag for two weeks before you change to a new one. By the way, insurance only pays 80% of your durable medical equipment, which those supplies fall under. So unless you are on Medicaid and earn income at or below the poverty line, you will be paying some out of pocket expenses.
Did you used to enjoy driving? Well, you can forget about that. If you're severely disabled, you will probably need somebody to drive you wherever you need to go. If you're in a wheelchair and you want your own wheels, a used wheelchair accessible van will probably run you $30,000 to $40,000! That's with 70,000 miles on it. A new wheelchair accessible van can run you about $70,000 or $80,000. Now perhaps you're starting to get a feeling about the point I am making.
I think what I want to say is this: I am not apathetic to the trials and tribulations that people go through. Oh, who the fuck am I kidding, I am pretty damn apathetic towards people that go Boo hoo hoo. "Poor little old me". Even if you're an American living below the poverty line, but are able to walk on your own two feet and use your own two hands, you are able to do a whole lot more than I can!
Let me tell ya, I would give my right testicle, my two little fingers, and my two little toes, to be able to get out of this bed right now and to be able to do every little thing that you were complaining about!
Are you reluctant to help out a neighbor in his yard? Do you say you're busy when a friend needs to move some furniture? Do you expect other people to do the dishes and clean up the bathroom after you? Well, get off your ass and go do it!
In my first 30 years of life, I did a whole lot of what you would call dirty jobs. I think the only job I ever complained about, was a part-time job I had in high school, sweeping up the floors, between the day shift and the swing shift. And it was really a stupid complaint, because one shift was going off work and the next shift was coming on work, and as I swept the floor and cleaned off the machines I would look behind me and see that another mess was is being made only moments after I left the area. At the time, it all felt a bit fruitless but I was only 17 years old, so what the hell did I know about work.
But to be able to walk and do things with my hands and arms again; it would mean the world to me. I would work as a trash collector. I'd work mucking stalls. Think of any work you don't like, and I'd do it! The thing about this society is that everybody is griping about something. I'm tired of hearing about it. And I know that even if I may indulge occasionally in a bitching or two, I don't make a habit of it.
So please, let me know if you'd like to switch with me for a month or so. Who knows? Maybe there's a bit of magic out there, and you can get to find out what my daily life is like. And I, can get to WALK in your shoes for a while!
Thank you for your time.
