Lord Save the Ailments for Me

Surprisingly, having reached a ripe age, there’s been reason to review the various related complaints that go hand in hand with the increasing years.

There’s a knee that aches with sudden weather changes or change of seasons. Spring always heralds allergic responses. A sweater is always kept near at hand to keep the chill off the back. I have a pill for this and an inhaler for that. Groans erupt from nowhere with most physical movement like bending, lifting or general daily activities.

This body has been abused for over half a life time. The scuffs, dents and dings were earned and are worn proudly. Despite the damage the bones have healed relatively straight and all the appendages that were originally supplied with the body are still attached.

All those aches and pains are noted daily and gauged against the previous day’s inventory. The gradual increase has been adjusted for; whether that means moving a bit more slowly, popping an additional analgesic or simply by willing myself to ignore it. It’s a strategy that works for me.

Sometimes I catch myself physically unable to do some things, which in the past might have upset me but now it’s more appropriate to scold myself for being foolish in thinking I could be doing these things without inflicting further pain.

These are the realities that I have learned to live with.

In contrast to my age I have to compare myself to new revelations my daughter has to deal with. They call it rheumatoid arthritis. She sounds like me as she groans getting out of bed. She dreads the flight of stairs she has to descend in the morning knowing that the nightly trek back up will be even worse. The same stairs that I will, on occasion, still take two at a time.

We sometimes talk as she sits propped up with an ice-pack strategically placed to help relieve swollen joints. For her, these damages are not self-inflicted and relief is counted in minutes at a time. In her eyes I can gauge her discomfort from moment to moment.

In the past I might have hobbled around with a swollen joint just to give me something to grumble about. These are the things I wear like a badge, my pain on display.

My daughter wears her pain but she does not have the benefit of age, experience and intimacy with pain like I do. I’ve made friends with my pain. My daughter’s pain is a rude house guest, a particularly nasty snarling dog, a swarm of black flies that remain with you despite the season of year. My aches help me acknowledge another day, my daughters aches devastates us both.

I’m a praying man and I have never made it a point to pray for myself. Those intentions are always directed towards my friends and family. It’s always health and happiness. Those prayers have changed a bit in the past months as I still seek health and happiness on the behalf of my family in a most earnest way. But now in those last few mumbles at the end I do add a request for myself.

I’m better able to shoulder the burden, Lord save the ailments for me.