Life has served me a shit sandwich (SS). Yes a shit sandwich, and I am not talking a Mufalata here, nor a famous Star Deli lean corned beef, but rather a hard, steamy colled rolled, burning, painful, numb, full of odor, grotesque sequence of circumstances. In the shit sandwich world there are two modes of participation: the giver or the receiver, or both!
This morning as I unloaded my vehicle making my way to the DMC pool therapy in Novi, I received my first SS of the day. I was leaning my weight onto my walker with such concentration and skill when a faint voice from a few yards away eagerly expressed to me how ecstatic she was to see another “young” person using a walker. “Everyone makes fun of my walker, she exclaimed, it’s nice to see another young person using one,” she remarked. First of all she was like eighty five years old and God Bless her but she either thought I was an old fart or whatever it is she interprets “youth” to be is a little skewed. “Next person that makes fun of that walker serve’em a shit sandwich” I squawked back, reverently working on not falling in the parking lot. The old gal chuckled and off I went.
As I undressed, redressed, and made my way into the pool it occurred to me just how huge my problems seem to me, but in reality to the rest of the world I am just a grain of sand, a pimple on the ass of life, a speck of dust in the air. We all have our problems and it can be so easy to get caught up in my own that the last thing I would ever think about is some poor old eighty five year old lady being chided about her walker. I am confident her problems are every bit as significant as mine, as is yours, your friends, his friends, and so on. Do you know there are over 40 million blind people in the world? Or that 1 out of every 150 people are autistic? Or that six and a half percent of the world’s population are diabetic? Or that 26% of the deaths in the US last year were caused by heart disease? I know the thoughts haven’t occurred to me at all. I have been too busy munching on my own SS.
When therapy ended and I made my way back to my car, sputtering and dragging like an eight cylinder motor working on two, I was grunting and groaning and cussing in an attempt to motivate myself to complete the task of actually “making” it to the car. The parking lot was jammed and the car next to me was parked really close. As I held onto my tailgate, folded my walker, and tossed it into the back seat I yelled out a few beautiful obscenities, literally one after the other, hooted and hollered as I hoisted myself into my seat, fell back into the leather seat put down the window and threw out a couple more fabulous choice words to the universe. As I sat back in the headrest catching my breath, I turned over and caught the site of a horrified old lady, knitting inside the car next to me, obviously witness to my verbal bantering and shocked out of her gore. Moral of the story: We all have our own shit sandwiches, but be cautious how you choose to eat yours, or if and when you spit it out for that matter. Dont think about only yourself, its a big big world. Be aware there exists battles that others are fighting maybe not obvious to the naked eye. And for Pete's sake if your going to yell your SS out loud to the universe confirm there is not an old lady knitting in the vicinity. For others points of view (click here), but beware this site is intended for only the maturist of viewers!