There but for the grace…

I met a woman last week who spends her days in a wheelchair because her legs are too weak and disabled to support her. She is aware of her surroundings and can carry on a conversation but she is mentally challenged. When you spend time with her, you get the sense that she is capable of more than she currently can do, but when she was a child and attended her “special school”, as she calls it, nobody took the time to teach her. As a result, today she cannot read and she cannot write anything other than her name. She is spending her life as a ward of the state in a long-term care facility because her health is so poor and her life skills so negligible, she isn’t able to care for herself. Her life is one continuous stretch of nothingness, with cafeteria meals the only thing breaking the monotony. She is only 45 years old.

When I was preparing to leave her after our talk, she told me excitedly that next month is her birthday. She also asked if I would come visit again. I don’t think anyone else comes to see her anymore. Maybe no one even remembers her anymore. I tell her yes, selfishly, because I get far more from our visits than she does.

This is an example of why I allow myself to vent but not wallow. I am very blessed and my life is good.