Perspective

My Shattered Nerves: my FIL, bless his huge heart, used to say that. Shattered things are on my mind today. Here's the story.

We went to a park today, just to sit and read for a few hours. It was a pleasant thing to do ... until it was time to leave, that is.

You see, I had taken my iPod to stick in my ear while I read. To stick my iPod in my ear, I had to unstick my hearing aids. No, I'm not deaf, but I sure benefit from assistance, the way that most of us benefit from sight assistance. I wear them most of the time, you know? I don't love to wear them but wear them I do. They make my ears moisty and itchy, you see, but it's best if I wear them. I can hear most things at ordinary levels that way. I don't have to blast the tv and assault Cuppa's normal ears, and I don't have to keep asking people to repeat themselves. That's tiresome and aggravating for all. Yeah, it's best if I wear them.

But I can't wear them while I listen to my iPod, and if Cuppa needs to say something and I remove them for a moment, I can pick up those few words. So, I took them out and put them, the hearing aids, in my pocket. And I'll bet that you bright, sleuthish bloggers already have some sort of inkling of what's to come. Yes, I can hear you saying, "Oh no." Yes, I can hear you, even without my hearing aids in.

I moved about some while we were at the park for those several hours: got up some, went to the washroom, went to the car, lay on the blanket, returned to the chair ... and so on.

Time to go. Got the car packed and reached into my pocket for my hearing aids. Pulled out and inserted the left one and fumbled around for the right. It was not there. There had also been some coins and a tube of Blistex in my pocket. They were still there, but not the hearing aid. No, it was not in that pocket. It was not in any pocket, no matter how many times I dug, patted and prodded. Neither was it to be found in any article that we had packed, not in the roll-up chairs or the cooler or the blanket or the book bag or the food bag.

The ground-search commenced in earnest. We retraced steps. We got down on our hands and knees. We went back and forth and forth and back. Others, noticing our plight, helped, particularly one nice lady who hunted ever so concernedly and diligently. Thank you nice lady.

Eventually, and I do mean eventually, Cuppa found it after almost stepping on it. She might as well have stepped on it as a matter of fact. For somebody had. Me, no doubt. Shattered! More than a thousand dollars of hearing aid lying in shattered pieces.

The relatively worthless coins and the Blistex remained securely in my pocket while the hearing aid not only fell out but managed to also get trod upon. In the whole park, not a crowded park either, a foot found this tiny little hearing aid and crushed it to bits.

When we got home, our closest neighbours joyfully shared some good news with us. They had won a trip to Ireland. Yes indeed, they had won the draw from last weekend's Celtefest. They didn't go to the concert, and we did, but they won the trip.

I am happy for them. No, really. But sometimes things seem to conspire against me. Sometimes, I feel luckless.

I was going to end it there, on a note of self pity, but then I thought about it a bit more. Actually, it didn't require much thinking, for it was just there begging for me to see it.

Here it is: this neighbour is not well. He is almost confined to the house during the summer's heat and humidity. He finds it hard to breathe, you see. Not only is he asthmatic but he's diabetic and has a heart condition. He's only sixty-five, and he doesn't feel well much of the time. If he can manage to make it to Ireland, he may have to rent a scooter because you do walk a lot on trips and walking is problematic for this guy. No, I'd not want to trade places with him, not for a free trip to Ireland and not even for a working hearing aid or for the money it will cost to get it replaced.

So, I'll take my little life and be glad of it. I really will. But couldn't it have been the Blistex? Couldn't it?