The poor pitiful mes.
The moaning about the pain.
The stories of how their life sucks. How hard it is. How nobody cares.
The stories of how they had to go to the emergency room because they hurt.
You know what?
Everyone on this earth hurts. No one is completely free of pain.
Everybody has some sort of battle they are fighting.
It’s true that not everyone lives with lupus, but it’s also true that not everyone lives with cancer, or AIDS, or the death of a child.
I remember something from when I was in high school, something I try to use as my guide every day. It’s a quote from Desiderata that says, “There will always be greater and lesser persons than yourself.” That is so true, not only greater and lesser in what a person has, but also in what they know, and in the what they battle every day.
There are battles much worse than this battle with lupus.
We don’t always get to choose our battle. I certainly didn’t choose lupus. But here it is. A part of my life. Every. Single. Day.
What I do get to choose is how I live with lupus.
Am I going to choose to whine about my situation? Or have a pity party each day of my life? Am I going to live my precious days in ways that are less than I want them to be? Am I going to sit around whining, when I can still do great things?
I may not have a choice in this disease, but I have more than a choice in how I live my life. I have the power to do what I want. To become who I want to be. To be happy, and thankful, and to find joy in everyday of my life.
Anything less gives my power to the disease. Anything less and I am letting something else rule my life.
But you say you have pain. So do I. I can’t remember the last day I had that was pain free.
So you say you have to take ten medications every day. I take twelve, but at one time I was taking twenty-eight different meds a day. And I am thankful for every one of them for they let me live to see another day, and they make this day a possibility.
No, I’m not able to walk three miles every day like I used to. No I can’t enjoy the beautiful beaches of the Gulf Coast that were once a big part of my life. No I can’t get down on the floor and play with my grandchildren. But I can walk to the kitchen, to my car, out to get the mail, and even to do a little shopping if I choose to. And I can go to the beach in the afternoon, or sit by the pool and read. I can pull my grandchildren on to my lap and read them a story, or sit at the table and play games with them. In my life, the CANS outweigh the can’ts every time.
I don’t wake each morning whining because of the pain. I wake each morning thankful that I am alive and have another day to do, to be, to enjoy.
As I swallow my medications I say a prayer of thanks for those who created them, and for the fact that I have them to help me through the day.
As I get in my car early each day, I get to decide what kind of day it’s going to be.
I have lupus, and I am blessed.
From the life and mind of Wanda M. Argersinger
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