My Pity Party

Betsy always says she is amazed at my great attitude through all this. I rarely complain and try to keep my sense of humor, but I'm allowed to vent every once in a while, right? Can I lament the things I've lost in the last few years?

Children stare at me, I am constantly mistaken for a girl on the phone, people often don't understand me when I talk, I drool in public, I can no longer juggle, do flips on the trampoline, ride a two-wheeled bike, paddle a boat with my hands, open a bag of chips without scissors, tie a shoe, tie a tie, zip a zipper, taste the foods I love, whistle, sing, swim, run, play soccer, or ultimate frisbee. I used to love playing ultimate frisbee. We went to a new indoor trampoline center the other day, and one of the girls we were with was demonstrating her back flip. All I could think was, I used to be able to do that. I'm so envious when anyone shows Grace a skill that I'm no longer capable of doing. This must be what it feels like to grow old, only it's happening to me in my 30's, rather than my 60's.

Betsy constantly tells me how good I look, how I don't look any different from the day she met me. This either implies that I am an extremely lucky man, or her LASIK surgery didn't go as well as we thought. I like to think of myself as the villain Two-Face from Batman: horribly disfigured on one side and devastatingly handsome on the other. OK, one of those is an exaggeration; you can decide which one.

I know! I know! Don't tell me about all the things I should be thankful for! I have this precious time with Grace. I'm not in a wheelchair. I don't have to be tethered to a feeding pump. I'm able to feed and dress myself. I can drive myself. I can hike. I ride a recumbent bike that my friend lent me. I don't have PTSD, ALS, CP, GP, MS, TBI, or any other acronym I can't think of right now. I get a great pension and health insurance from the military. I don't wallow in self pity, so you don't need to send me your, "Well at least you don't have ________, Brian!" messages. I can bitch about my situation without reproach now and then can't I?

Sometimes I feel like I'm not allowed to complain. If people complain too much then that's how they're labeled. "Pity party's over, dude. Quit your whining, suck it up, and come back to the real world," they'd say derisively. I see all these people around me or read about others online who are so much worse off than I am. What right do I have to moan about my petty problems? It's like when Grace cries because she lost a toy. When your kid cries over some imagined crisis don't you just want to yell, "SERIOUSLY??? There are millions of kids in this world who can't afford one toy, and you're whining about ONE of your TEN Barbie Dolls?!?"

But you don't say that to your child. You hold her and dry her tears until she stops crying. You try to put yourself in her shoes, remember what it was like when you were a kid. When your toys were the most important things in the world. So, can't I cry and whine like Grace once in a while? Have I spent enough time in hospitals to earn that?

So, this post is my one chance to express regret over something I've lost. I might complain some more in the future, but I'll try not to make a habit of it. Eric O'Gorman, another tubie whose blog I admire (he passed away last year), used to write posts every now and then called "What I Want Right Now." In these posts he would lament something he could no longer have, like a peanut butter sandwich (http://www.entropyandlight.blogspot.com/2010/11/things-i-want-right-now-7.html).

Following Eric's example, let me specify one thing I miss: applesauce. Applesauce is my favorite food. My mom used to make it when I was a kid and it was so delicious. She'd peel up a whole pile of apples from our tree and cook them in a little water with sugar and cinnamon. Then, she'd can them for us to use through the winter. It wasn't too chunky or too smooth. In the immortal words of Yo Gabba Gabba!, it was "a party in my tummy." I could go through a whole jar in one sitting. Don't you love the taste of applesauce??

Heaven in a Bowl

That is all.