When You Find Yourself Asking "Why Me"

Daily, I am amused and appalled by what I hear or see going on in my world both personal and public.

I am sure I am not alone with these thoughts. Many times I have to sit back and try to make sense of it all reminding myself that we are only human.

Many times I will see or hear something that leaves me shaking my head wondering if I saw or heard correctly. It never ceases to amaze me when people do or say things obviously without thinking.
I have many peeves. I will spare you all but one.

Maybe I am the ultimate pessimist, or just a misguided missile of life. I try to find the positive of everything. It is MY opinion that everyone should see things this way. Think of all the miserable people in the world; now picture them with a positive outlook. Crime would be down; pity parties would come to a screeching halt.

Finally the thing that bothers me the most. This I find inexcusable.

My most favorite (said with much sarcasm) is complaining. Oh yeah, chronic Debbie Downers. I know several of these people.

Let me tell you, they suck the fun out of life. They drive you to a point of wanting to reach out and grab them by their whiny throats and choke the drab life out of them.

Don't get me wrong, I do get into a funk sometimes myself. We are allowed that, I am talking about the people that no matter what they have, how healthy they are, they complain for what they don't have.

I am tired of listening to "My leg hurts, or my arse aches." If only we could all remember, that no matter how bad things get, how bad we think we have it, I will guarantee you, there is someone out there who is much worse off than you. I use this example on my own child, often. When she complains of having to have labs done at the doctors, I just simply say, be thankful your not one of the children at Dana Farber, I bet they would trade places with you any day of the week. She gets the message.

I believe the reason I am and feel the way I do is because of a great influence in my life. I had the honor of giving her Eulogy a few months ago.

My Aunt Joan. Sure everyone has a special someone in their life, influenced them in a positive way. Not everyone had the honor that I had. You see, Joan had Cerebral Palsy and was moderately retarded. I got to grow up with her. As I matured, I realized that the world was not as lucky as I.

Growing up, Aunt Joan was dependent on the use of crutches and a wheelchair to get around. Oh, but get around she did. Nothing stood in her way. Always a smile, never a complaint. Several surgeries, none successful. When Joan was born, the doctors told my grandparents to put her in an institution. Joan would never walk or interact on a social level. They were told her life expectancy would be short. My stubborn Irish grandfather told the doctor "thank you for your professional opinion; however, I believe a parental opinion carries much more weight on this issue. Joan will be raised at home, surrounded by people who love her." Oh and love her they did.

I remember as a child I loved spending the day with Joan. She lived with my grandparent's right around the block from my house. I could not wait until I was old enough to cross the street that meant I could go visit with Joan all by myself.

Some days I would take her out for a walk. I felt so grown up helping her down the stairs. I had to place my foot on the step in front of her crutch while she worked her way down to prevent it from slipping out from under her.

I enjoyed her. Never once was I disappointed, she was always eager to go with me. I would take her to the corner store, carefully helping her up the two concrete steps into the store. She always picked a Hershey bar as a treat.

We had a special bond; I was truly privileged to be a favorite of hers. When ever my grandparents needed to go out and could not take Joan with them, I would volunteer to sit with her. I never called it babysitting because she was 14 years older than me. We would sit on the porch and talk and boy did she love to talk. When she had enough, we would go inside to watch her favorite shows on television. Often, we would miss what was on, instead we would talk, many times repeating the same things over again, I never minded.

Joan always brought smiles to the faces of those who knew her. If the telephone rang, Joan announced in a loud voice " Phone, Ma, the phone is ringing!"

The doorbell received the same announcement.

My grandmother always said Joan sat at the right hand of God. If you needed a prayer, Joan was the messenger. God always listened to Joan.

We tried to avoid letting her watch the news. You see if someone died or if there was a tragedy to report, Joan would cry. It didn't matter that she didn't know these people. Her sadness was genuine. Her heart was with the families of the person. Can you imagine a heart that pure?

There were days when Joan was in a "bad mood", she would yell, scram and throw her crutches. This was due to a chemical imbalance controlled by meds. Funny thing, I was never afraid. I could often calm her down and get her to laugh instead.

Joan could not participate in many activities. Her body would not allow it. Her passion was talking and eating. Combining the two was heaven to her. Her favorite pastime was sitting around the kitchen table drinking tea with her siblings who were grown up and had families of their own.

Joan's calendar had two holidays that were equal, her birthday and Christmas. May 15th was her own special Christmas.

As soon as the end of December, she would start her chant, " My birthday's coming, my birthday's coming. What are you getting me?" We knew all she wanted was to be surrounded by her family. That and a few singles to fall out of her birthday card as she opened it. We helped create the holiday for her, her brothers always brought her lobsters, a special treat. I have a picture of her, a wearing a big grin and a lobster bib. It still brings joy and sadness to me every time I look at it.

When I turned 16, my grandparents entrusted the care of Joan to me while they went away on a much deserved vacation. Up until now, Joan had gone everywhere with them and the family. This would be a first for my grandparents to go away alone.

I counted down the days until they left. Imagine I would get to spend a week all by myself with Joan. I would get to cook for her, help her into the bathtub, get her ready for bed, reminding of her of her prayers. This was a treat for me.

I have so many fond memories and stories over the years with her. The ultimate was when I finally had a child of my own I could not wait to place her in Joan's arms. I wanted my daughter to meet the most amazing person in my life and experience instant love.

I remember thinking to myself. Everyone should have a "Joan" in their family. To truly appreciate how caring and giving someone can be and in return, only want love.

Joan remained at home until she was 38 years old, her "Daddy" died suddenly. My grandmother was getting on in years and taking care of Joan was becoming too much for her.

I will never forget the night of the family meeting to discuss guardianship of Joan. Little did I know, they had already made a decision to let Joan live in a Residential. This was a home for mentally challenged adults. Joan was both physically and mentally challenged.

I was angry at my mother, grandmother and uncles. How dare they decide this without even consulting me.How could strangers love and care for Joan, they didn't know her. I had always assumed that I would care for her. I looked forward to this. We argued back and forth. I cried, told them they could not do this to her, her "Daddy" had just died and she would feel abandoned.

One of my uncles, pulled me aside and said to me "Honey, don't you think we have gone over all of this. We all want what is best for Joan. Do you want to know something? We asked Joan what she wanted. What he told me next brought sobs. "She wants to be with people like her. No more trying to be like everyone else."

The amazing thing is, she did this without complaint, she adapted to something scary. She did this with so much grace.

I wanted to share Joan with you with the hopes of being able to look in the mirror and say "I have it pretty good". That is what Joan has done for me. Well that and so much more.

When Joan had turned 53, her health started to show signs of wear. Her body was growing tired. She started aspirating her food and her own saliva. Her respiratory suffered chronic pneumonia, etc. Doctors had to eventually insert a feeding tube to prevent this from happening. Still, Joan never complained. I went to see her in the hospital; I was greeted with that wonderful smile of hers. Imagine, all she was going through and I needed her smile to cheer me up.

A few months later, Hospice was called in. Joan had been through enough. We did not want her to suffer any longer. She was kept comfortable, and surrounded by family. I spent the weekend going back and forth. Joan was in and out of consciousness Saturday. One thing she did ask for was a sandwich. She seemed a bit agitated. Sunday, she never woke up; we sat there all day, listening to her struggle to breath.

Monday April 11th, 2005. I remember it well. The Red Sox Opening Day. World Series Rings today. Something told me not to go into work. I headed to Joan's side. When I arrived, I went to her room, grabbed her hand and cried as she took her last breathe. Thankful that I had gotten there when I did. I did not want her to be alone. She deserved love and guidance into her next life.

The family gathered in her room. We sat and had "One last cup of tea" together. Before I could let her go, I asked to have a few minutes with her alone. One last time.

I wanted to clean her up, wash and dress her. Joan deserved caring hands now, not some strange unloving hands. One by one, my sisters came in. Without a word, we all got Joan washed and dressed through tears, for her final journey.

After making the funeral arrangements we were standing in the parking lot when two fighter jets flew overhead. Being an avid baseball fan, I said "oh yeah the game must be starting." My dear sweet daughter set me straight. She told me "No Mom, those are for Aunt Joan." and then she broke down in tears.

Some were angry that Joan had been taken from us, angry that after all she endured in her life, how God could now do this. Ah, they did not have the insight I did.

You see, Joan did endure much in her life, without complaint. Her only passions were talking, eating and being surrounded by her family. Now that she could no longer enjoy eating, what was there for her? As in life, Joan accepted death, without complaint.

So, you can see why it pisses me off when people complain.