Hero

I’m sitting in our living room with my spoiled dog squished by my side. He’s convinced there is room for both of us; however, he feels that I could be doing a lot more sharing to add to HIS comfort. According to Einstein, my primary purpose is to please this hunk of white fur.

I’m in the midst of writing about heroes for a special brunch tomorrow. As I look over quotes of people’s definitions of a hero, I find that we all want someone who will do anything for us at any time. A hero will get up from a nap, dash from dinner without dessert and even change routes right in the middle of racing to a good sale at Kohl’s while holding a 30% coupon.

I am pretty sure that we all hunt for that hero. Often, we place that crown on a deceased parent, remembering the many sacrifices made on our behalf. Our spouse is far too close, and far too human, to deserve that recognition. We need that hero to get us that cold drink while we are comfy on our family room couch. We beg for that hero to finish the last 47 loads of laundry while making a home-cooked meal complete with a scrumptious chocolate dessert. A hero takes our Visa bill and rips it in pieces after talking to our boss to set a few matters straight. He will whisk us off to a hidden paradise with white sand and those cute umbrella drinks. Children suddenly are neatly groomed while sitting near us to catch our clever words.

My hero isn’t here right now. I’m the one who better take the hound for a walk. That hero hasn’t taken away the vertigo or the headache. Those new pills in a cute shade of yellowish/orange bring on the nausea much better than take away any pain.  My husband is resting, and I quietly admit of the fatigue encompassing my body. It’s tired of the twisting and turning that accomplishes little in the comfort category. Where is my hero to take away all the pain that overflows our rooftop?

Since the hero hasn’t shown up, I think I will take a stroll with the dog to examine nature in our neighborhood. I’ve ignored the Y in fear of my physical body’s reaction to new medication and old pain. I admit the comments and concern of kind people around our block have cast a spell of timidity on me. I don’t want the stares or gawks. I hear the whispers as others explain that pain not alcohol have changed my gait to that of a new sailor on a rolling ship.

Meanwhile, Einstein still is sitting by the back door, looking more and more pathetic as the clock slowly flips. I guess part of a hero is getting up and completing a difficult task even knowing that it won’t all be a barrel of fun. So off I go, thinking of the many people who bring me that fun in other ways at other times.

Benefit of Feeling Cruddy from the Mighty Three and Beyond:

• It can make you be your own hero if you try hard enough!