A Car Door Ding

Five days ago I parked my car evenly in a space at a hardware store with no other car on my driver's side. I was in the store for fifteen minutes. Upon returning to my car, I was devastated, frustrated and mutually pissed off to see a quarter sized "car door ding" six inches below the driver's side door handle. I try to maintain my car faithfully. I'm a "car guy."

I veered around to locate the perpetrator and no one could be found. With beeds of sweat rolling down my forehead, I climbed in my car and called the dealer to order touch-up paint. I took a picture of the "car door ding" and texted everyone I knew. Complaining, cussing, screaming "why my car door ding!" I spend the next three days repeating my tragedy to everyone, including the young man in the Parts Department at the car dealer. My mind was lost because "I" had been victimized. This was the worst thing to happen. Why me? Maybe I should get a new car! This has ruined my life. I was distressed, drunk on emotion!

Today, I helped take a real friend with a rare form of prostate cancer to an appointment about palliative care. Six months ago my friend was doing okay, but that changed. He has lost forty pounds, dealt with immense pain and suffering. Presently, he is too weak for chemo. His head hangs down. He whispers.

Wheelchair confined, my friend is a strong man. He's a husband, father, mentor, disciple, Cardinals fan, wine aficionado, music lover, and an awesome listener. I'm certain he worries about his family and his future. He doesn't deserve this. He is a victim.

As we waited in the Cancer Center for his appointment, he held his hand out for me to hold. Holding his hand, I told him I loved him, he will get better, we will drink wine together in a couple months and watch the Cardinals. I told him we have nothing better to do and we will get old together drinking wine.

And I was upset about my "car door ding." I'm sober now and I can't wait to drink wine and watch a game with my friend very soon.