Those of you who know me know I love my dad. I'm a daddy's girl, through and through. Always my buddy, my dad has stuck by my side through the good times and the bad. Those times I look back on and laugh at the good memories. And those times I wish I never had to live through but know they made me stronger. They made both of us stronger.
Of all the people in my life, those who know my struggle with living with rheumatoid arthritis the best are my parents. And if anyone held this burden more than me it was my father. Of course my mother carried her share, as mothers do, but my father was always with me. No matter how inconvenient it was for him or how embarrassing it was for me, he never left my side.
Trips to the hospital were always taken with my dad at the wheel. He taught me how to snoop through the drawers and cabinets when the doctor was out of the room. He also taught me the importance of doughnut stops right after getting bad news.
That first day at Children's Hospital, when they were coming at me with a steroid injection . . . I thought I was stubborn - not budging on the idea of being poked with a needle for three hours. But he was even more stubborn - not moving until I agreed it was the best thing for me.
But of all the "best thing for me" talks and all the runs to get milkshakes, the most important gift he gave me was the ability to laugh at myself. Well . . . laugh at him is more like it. (*wink!) But the importance of laughter and keeping things lighthearted. Finding humor in even the darkest of situations. (Who turned the lights out?)
When I met Mitch, he made me laugh. The first guy, aside from my father, to really make me laugh. I was raised with laughter and I knew that whoever I was going to end up with needed to live that way with me. (Though sometimes I can tell he gets annoyed with my constant joking about everything. You wanna be with me? That's what ya gotta live with!) And though I love my husband to death, no one, no one, will ever make me laugh the way my father does.
People come to me with compliments on my attitude toward life. That I stay so upbeat and find a way to smile through everything. Though he might disagree with me, I have to give credit to my father for that attitude. I can definitely brood like he does, (sorry Dad, it's true!) but my outlook on life, that there is no reason to take it all too seriously, comes from this guy . . .
I begged Dad to write something for my blogger friends, so I can share with you not just my experiences, but the experiences of my father who was with me through every waking minute of it. We both hope you'll enjoy!
You'll hear from us soon!