I have a lot to worry about. My golf game has gone to hell. I find that when I have a distance of about 35-40 yards remaining from the hole that, for some unfathomable reason, I shank the shot. For non golfers, this means that when I hit this particular shot, the ball goes directly off at right angles. Not a pretty sight and I worry the whole damn time while playing about the next time I will have to hit a shot from that distance. I also worry about the economy. I worry that everything I have spent a life time accumulating will be gone and whether next year at this time I'll be a greeter at McDonald's. I have about as much control over the economy as I do over my golf swing. Scary stuff. I also worry about my health. When I awaken each morning, my muscles are stiff as boards and it is a struggle to simply get out of bed. A couple of cups of coffee later and things are back to normal, but I worry about the day when this mysterious stiffness doesn't go away. I worry about whether I am getting enough vitamin B, or maybe I am getting too much. I also worry about whether I am getting too much sun. A recent scientific article suggested that people should get more sun because they need the vitamin D. I now worry about that too. After I eat spinach I worry about whether it is stuck in my teeth. When I buy gas at a particular gas station, I worry about whether or not the station down the street has a better price. I worry about the length of time of my usual forty minute workout. Should I extend it to fifty or sixty minutes? Should I push myself harder?
Yesterday at the legal clinic, one of my new clients took a while to move through the door to my office. Jim, 26 years old, has suffered from cerebral palsy since birth. He was strapped in a motorized wheel chair which he could operate with his right hand. His left hand was contracted to nearly his elbow. We shook hands. His grip was as firm as a collegiate football linebacker. He looked at me directly in the eyes and had a pleasant smile on his face. I like corny jokes and he told me one while his sister, who accompanied him, sat rolling her eyes, a familiar response when I try to tell a joke. We both laughed hard. Recently Jim was robbed at gun point by his roommate who has disappeared, whereabouts unknown, but is being sought by the police. As a result, Jim had to leave the apartment where he had lived for four years because of concerns over his safety and the apartment complex is now dunning him through a collection agency for bills left unpaid by a now defunct health care agency. That agency had contracted with the State of Florida to provide basic services for Jim. The owner of that company , like Jim's former roommate, has also disappeared and the company has been decertified by the state. One of the charges asserted by the apartment complex is for six doors inside the apartment which had been removed so that Jim could maneuver with his wheelchair. When the handyman removed the wooden doors four years ago, he put them outside behind the building. Now the apartment complex says that Jim should pay for new doors because the old ones are warped. Jim is attending college and wants to be a lawyer.
After Jim left, I closed the door of my office and cried. He came to me for help and I was the one who was helped. What a lesson.