There's a lot of loss with chronic pain. The loss of abilities, the loss of jobs, the loss of independence but somehow for me the loss of credibility is the worst.
At any given time one of my family members can say, I told you that, or you didn't tell us that and I don't have a leg to stand on. Frustrating as that is we have learned to laugh about it when we can.
Yesterday was one of those times. Barry and I were balancing our monthly budget and going through our credit card together to reconcile it. There were some purchases of mine on there and I had money set aside for them. That's were the trouble started. I confidently said I had already given him the money. It was in a small white envelope, I explained. I had been it carrying around in my purse and it was no longer there. I had gone through my purse two or three times. I could picture the exchange. We were in the car I told him, because we were talking about what a great deal I had gotten on the winter jacket. Yes, he did remember the conversation but no, I hadn't given him the money.
Well, I reasoned, if I hadn't given him that envelope where was it?
Then a shred of doubt entered my mind. I couldn't be sure. But when could I be sure really, my mind feels like mush when I'm in pain. Then I did what I often do when I am looking for something. I said a silent prayer, well more like a plead really, to St. Anthony. He is after all the patron saint of lost things. As with so many other times, my mind cleared, I walked into the bedroom, into my top drawer, and pulled out two hundred bucks.
Sheepishly, I walked out to the kitchen and handed it over to Barry. As I apologized he smiled and said, "No problem, I finally win some arguments now that you can't remember anything".
Thankfully we can both laugh at that!
At any given time one of my family members can say, I told you that, or you didn't tell us that and I don't have a leg to stand on. Frustrating as that is we have learned to laugh about it when we can.
Yesterday was one of those times. Barry and I were balancing our monthly budget and going through our credit card together to reconcile it. There were some purchases of mine on there and I had money set aside for them. That's were the trouble started. I confidently said I had already given him the money. It was in a small white envelope, I explained. I had been it carrying around in my purse and it was no longer there. I had gone through my purse two or three times. I could picture the exchange. We were in the car I told him, because we were talking about what a great deal I had gotten on the winter jacket. Yes, he did remember the conversation but no, I hadn't given him the money.
Well, I reasoned, if I hadn't given him that envelope where was it?
Then a shred of doubt entered my mind. I couldn't be sure. But when could I be sure really, my mind feels like mush when I'm in pain. Then I did what I often do when I am looking for something. I said a silent prayer, well more like a plead really, to St. Anthony. He is after all the patron saint of lost things. As with so many other times, my mind cleared, I walked into the bedroom, into my top drawer, and pulled out two hundred bucks.
Sheepishly, I walked out to the kitchen and handed it over to Barry. As I apologized he smiled and said, "No problem, I finally win some arguments now that you can't remember anything".
Thankfully we can both laugh at that!
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