Over the course of the past few days, I have learned that I don’t really have problems. I have inconveniences. Problems are reserved for people much less fortunate than myself. I must keep reminding myself of this every time I go to open my mouth to complain about something trite and first world.
I. Do. Not. Have. Problems.
And I am grateful I only have ‘inconveniences’.
Today, I had to rise and shine to be at the doctor’s office for an 8:15 appointment. I had to get blood work done to test for a few things the doctor wants to ‘check out’.
Rising and shining after several days of being on vacation is not easy. But it is not a problem. I don’t have problems.
I got to the office and the friendly lab tech who was about to draw my blood could not find any notes indicating what tests were supposed to be run with my sample.
Don’t look at me, I was a history major.
So, try as I might, (and as luck would have it, the nurse practitioner who ordered the tests was not at work today) I fleetingly suggested the few tests I vaguely remember discussing with my provider. I hope I got it right.
Who does that? Who leaves it up to the patient to remember this crap?
But, it wasn’t a problem.
I dragged myself home (I had been fasting for this test so I was a little cranky) only to be greeted by the sink still full of dishes and my four year old eating a questionable amount of maple syrup on his pancakes.
Not a problem.
Later in the day, my husband went with my technologically challenged mother to purchase a new cell phone. Long story short, she is currently using an old cell phone from 1942, loaned to her by a friend who no longer needed it. I’m sure you could find more current and better working phones in a ditch, but I digress. Today she took the plunge and purchased an equally questionable phone, but at least this one was up to current century standards.
But she didn’t know how to add contacts to it. We had to ‘practice’ using it. I had to tutor her. It was painful.
But it was not a problem.
Then the news of the day… we found out my mother is being evicted.
This is actually more dramatic than it sounds, but I just like saying ‘evicted’ for emphasis and dramatic effect.
The winter rental she is in (she is a Snowbird) will no longer be available to her next winter. She is able to stay the duration of her lease but then it’s adios to the current condo. A place I found for her and my dad 8 years ago through a friend. A friend who owns the unit. A friend whom I thought might have given us a more personal heads up style of eviction notice. Nope, my mother was informed by her rental agent.
So while this is not a problem, it is a setback. My mother is adjusting beautifully to life as a widow since losing my dad almost three years ago. Each new step (as minor as it seems) is a milestone. An accomplishment for a woman who grew up in a generation where you married soon after high school and you remained married for decades and decades. She never had to forge a life on her own. Now she does. So, I feel responsible, as her only child, and as someone who has already experienced apartment seeking and living independently to help her as much as possible.
So now we have to find her a new place to live (for the winter). We have to worry about budgets and logistics again. Her nice little predictable world has gone topsy turvy. And for someone who experienced the trauma of finding her husband floating face down in a creek, we do not need more topsy turvy.
But it is not a problem. We are trying to spin it as a new adventure.
So we are trying. I am trying.
I am trying to put ‘problems’ into perspective.
Because as my wise mother always says, ‘it could be worse’.