If This is the Worst, I am Blessed
I got up this morning with an extra three pounds. I know what I weighed yesterday. I know what I weighed at the doctor's office. And I'm three pounds heavier today—the day I have to weigh in for Weight Watchers. Why does crap like that happen? But if that's the worst thing that happens today, I'll consider myself blessed.
I say that because I talked to a friend of mine last night who's dying from cancer. A year ago, you would never have known that anything was wrong with him. Last night, he sounded like an old man. I could hardly recognize that it was his voice.
He was always one of the good guys in life. You could hand him $1,000 in cash and ask him to hold it for you until you get back—be gone three years—and every penny of it would still be there on your return. He is a warm-hearted friend with the soul of a saint—charming, sweet, and tender. This year marks 30 years that I've known him. When I first met him he had this long, dark, wavy hair with a mustache and beard. He looked like Jesus. Now he's lost all of his hair and about 50 pounds. He looks like a Holocaust survivor.
Where is the fairness in life? I know. No one ever said that life is fair. And it certainly isn't.
So now back to the three pounds that I gained overnight. No matter what else happens today, I will not have to have chemotherapy to rid myself of this unexpected weight. No one will have to take me to the hospital. I'll make it through the day—a little heavier—but I'll make it through the day. If this is the worst thing that happens, I will consider myself blessed.
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