NY-30: Gratitude Day Two

I realized that I incorrectly titled the December 01st entry “NYE-31” and have now shifted the time-space continuum to reflect that it is 30 days until 01 January 2015 and the official end of my FIRST year without complaining. It is Day Two of my Gratitude month.

Today I am thankful for all the folks whose combined efforts have landed me here in Menlo Park, CA, where I await the dawn of the day on which I will be consulting with the ID doc at Stanford. Those responsible for my presence here include my primary doctor, Gary Thompson of Midtown Family Medicine, who wrote a 12- page referral packet; Jim, who financed the trip; my neurologist Arthur Allen who wrote a lengthy letter to the neuro-clinic which agreed to see me on short notice while I am here; the medical records folks in various doctors’ offices who worked hard to get my records out here; Alan, who is baby-sitting the law office while I’m here; Jessica, who is house and dog-sitting and doing all the Holiday Open House stuff that I should be doing; Jane, who took me to the airport; and Katrina, who is picking me up at the airport.

And a special thanks to my sister Ann, who created and e-mailed a “to-do” list for the trip, to calm me down and help me focus on the bright side of this adventure.

Perhaps I sound like a broken record, thanking people right and left. But I’ve gone 59 years without showing my gratitude as much as I now feel comfortable doing. In this incredible year of personal growth, I’ve learned to express my appreciation for the efforts of others at times and in ways that I never imagined that I could do. I’ve also learned to ask for help and to receive it without feeling as though I am deficient for needing assistance.

A lovely woman wheeled me from the gate where our plane landed about a mile through the San Jose airport and across the parking lot to the shuttle. I’ve struggled to make that walk at airports around the country. My sister suggested that I just get help. I’m glad that I did. I vividly recall being hot, sweaty, and exhausted when I’ve hauled my carry-on over similar distances. What a difference it makes not to struggle through crowds on shaky legs!

The shuttle driver practically lifted me into the bus, and a young woman jumped over the middle seat into the way back to yield her prime spot to me. Through it all, I never had the sense of being weak. I just felt as though some kind persons were reaching out to help someone whose legs don’t quite work. I never cringed; I never shrugged off an offered hand. I accepted what they gave and expressed my gratefulness. My heart filled with joy.

It’s a wonderful feeling.