I went to the commissary (grocery store) today to pick up some goodies for camping this weekend. It's not uncommon to see injured war veterans of all sorts and varieties there. But I saw a man that just set me back on my heels and reminded me that I have it good. Real good. He was carrying those plastic grocery sacks in each hook. Yep, I said it. Each hook. Both of his arms were missing. Then I looked down and he obviously had one special shoe on. He was wearing jeans, so one can only guess what injury he sustained there. Obviously he was getting along fine, but you wonder what it took to get there...
THIS is why I don't (at least try not to) whine about a silly missing boob. I don't mourn it. What's to mourn?? I do not have to learn how to walk again, or have to learn how to brush my teeth or take a bath. All I have to do is figure out which bra to wear and whether or not to stuff. Piece of cake.
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This is my journal expressing MY feelings. Just remember that if you feel tempted to bash me for any percieved judgmentalism.
3 comments:
He's an American hero in my book....we were lucky weren't we? Enjoy your weekend......GO BEARS! lol lol lol
Wow. Just when I start to feel sorry for myself, I read something like this and it puts it all in perspective. Bless his heart.
Sometimes it is easy to take things for granted. Good entry.
Pam
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