Why I Don't Complain

I thought I’d suck you in with that headline. It’s not completely true. But I didn’t know if anyone would read a post that says, Sometimes I Complain, and I Really Shouldn’t. Okay, I complain, but I really try not to. And here’s why…

Earlier today, I decided to get out of the house for a couple hours before the Orange come on the tube. I committed to take it easy for several days--this has been incredibly difficult--and I just couldn’t take the "relaxing" anymore. So I went to get a manicure.

I have a pretty good sized bruise on the back of my right hand. If you’ve been reading all along, you’ll recall that I had issues with the IV in the hospital. Jee, the adorable manicurist, noticed it right away and let out a little squeal. Not being sure how much she’d understand, I said…”hospital” and “I had surgery.” The woman next to me perked up from her fill-job and said, “Wow! They really did a number on you!” then said, “I hope you’re okay now.” I gave a brief overview of my last few days, trying to keep my phrases short and take breaths between sentences. This is how the therapist wants me to talk. Then the fill-job lady says…

now pay attention, because this is the reason that I try not to complain

“I had thyroid cancer and had surgery on my throat, too.” She continued by telling me how long it took her to recuperate and how difficult it is to move when you can’t use the muscles in your neck. She said her voice changed for several weeks (it’s back to normal now), and she showed me the pencil-sized zipper scar on her neck.

I can’t complain. And I’m going to continue to try not to.