Attitude Makes All of the Difference

Mitch Arnold • March 15, 2026

About six months ago, I received a letter from a clinic telling me that my five years were up, and it was time for me to call to make an appointment for a colonoscopy. Because that procedure and the preparation for it are awfully unpleasant, I didn’t respond to the letter until last week. If you’ve ever experienced a colonoscopy, perhaps you can forgive my procrastination.


After five minutes on hold, I was ready to give up on the call, maybe take it as a sign to buy more time, but Lynda sat near me, looking at me with eyes that said further procrastination would be most unwelcome. At last, a very pleasant voice greeted me on the other end of the line. I joked with her that she was WAY more enthusiastic about the call than I was. She laughed and assured me that she understood my hesitation, but that she was going to make it as easy as possible.


Her job was to field reluctant calls from unenthusiastic patients, and then to ask them questions about their bowel movements. For veterans of the procedure like me, she breezed over the details of the preparation that consists of clearing your system with a barrage of intestinal stimulants, and then ended the call with reassurance that it won’t be that bad, and that having the procedure is the responsible thing to do.


When I hung up the phone, I thought about how the appointment maker’s attitude made the experience better for both of us. Had she matched my level of enthusiasm and negativity, we probably still would have accomplished the required task, but we would have done so in a way that didn’t reflect our humanity.


Then, I thought about how that call was a reminder of how warmth and empathy bring peace to those lucky enough to be around them. The receptionist’s job was to have conversations with people who didn’t want to talk to her and to ask them awkward questions about something as off-putting as their digestive tendencies. That’s certainly a lot to overcome, but she did it like a professional. By the time I hung up the phone, I could feel stress and tension leaving my body.


We have many opportunities to do the same thing – not to ask people uncomfortable questions about bodily functions, but to lighten our tone and use empathy to make others more comfortable and bring peace to the world around us. When we encounter people obviously having a rough day, we should be sensitive to their fragility and treat them as we would want to be treated. Even when the bad day isn’t obvious, a little extra warmth and empathy is worth the effort and usually improves our days too.


I know this, because I’m often blessed to be on the receiving end of these transactions. Because of my obvious disability, most people soften when meeting me. Even those who I see frequently, like people at the gym, go out of their way to be kind and helpful to me. Of course, I reciprocate, and after a while, it’s just the way that we interact with each other.



That’s a good way to live, and the colonoscopy scheduler reminded me of that. Though I had never met her, I could tell that she cared enough about me as a patient to extend the extra effort of humanity. Think about a world where we all do that every time we interact with each other.

Cherish Your Memories and Applaud the Success of Others

By Mitch Arnold • September 27, 2026
Recently, one of my friends completed a hike of the Appalachian Trail, 2198 miles of mountain paths from Georgia to Maine. He hiked almost continuously from March 31 to September 17, wearing the shoes of his son who passed away unexpectedly late last year. Not only is my friend an intensely driven and passionate individual, he is also a talented photographer who has crafted a career around his art. He used that talent to document his journey, capturing views that most eyes will never see and small wonders that most would miss. As I followed his adventures online, I felt wonder and awe, as well as gratitude that I could witness something that I will never see in person. Life is like that. Few of us will ever do everything we want to do, and we’ll watch from the sidelines as others enjoy something that we can only dream of. The trick is to do that without jealousy and envy, which are the thieves of gratitude and peace, and it’s something that I occasionally struggle with. Sometimes it seems that almost everywhere I look I am reminded of things beyond my reach. From my social media feeds to the walls in my house, reminders of dreams cut short threaten to haunt me, if I let them. With the help of some enthusiastic friends and the patience of an accommodating wife, I enjoyed several good years of pursuing my passion for hunting. Before my disability took that away from me, I was blessed to hunt in Africa and Canada, as well as many amazing places in the United States. The trophies that hang on my wall fill me with memories that I am thankful to have, but there are also blank spots that I had envisioned filling with more trophies. They remind me that I can no longer hunt like that. My social media feeds reinforce that frustration. Not only do I see friends enjoying their hunts and outfitters with whom I have hunted guiding smiling clients to their dreams, I am also a member of several online communities who share the same passion. There, I see trophy rooms that I dreamed of having and hunts I dreamed of experiencing. Where I once looked for inspiration and ideas, I now see a fantasy world. Then, there are the travel posts, like my friend’s trek on the Appalachian Trail. I see people standing on mountain tops, rafting on rivers and exploring the coastline of Greece – all things that I wish that I could do. Sadly, that world no longer exists for me, and that makes it all the more important that I be grateful for what I have and rejoice in the successes of others. I am learning to look past the blank spots on my walls and instead focus on the trophies that I am very fortunate to have. Why spend time and emotion on what I don’t have when I can appreciate all that I do have? Likewise, why waste energy on jealousy and envy when I can look with wonder and awe on the experiences of others?  No matter who you are, what you have and what you have been blessed to experience, there is someone who would like to walk in your shoes, if only occasionally, and they would be truly puzzled if you weren’t filled with gratitude. Just as important, experience as much of this life as you possibly can and share your experiences with others. Lastly, don’t torment yourself by worrying about things beyond your reach. Be thankful and rejoice in your life and the lives around you.

But, Could It Be Better?

By Mitch Arnold • July 26, 2026
When facing challenging situations, my go-to response is often “it could be worse.” It’s raining: it could be worse. We could be scooping this stuff. It’s hot outside: it could be worse. At least we have air conditioning. The “it could be worse” response is a simple and common way of putting things into perspective, summoning at least a modicum of gratitude and showing the absurdity of petty complaining. Unfortunately, it can also blind us to the potential of “it could be better.” I say it aloud frequently when I am with people, but I also mutter “it could be worse,” to myself when I am alone and struggling with my mobility. That simple phrase has brought me peace and acceptance, as I have experienced progressive physical challenges throughout most of my entire adult life. While things could definitely be worse, and I’m right to summon gratitude when negativity creeps in, I was recently reminded that sometimes things could be better, and if that’s possible, I should do everything I can to make them better. For more than 40 years, I have lifted weights five to six times per week, and that has allowed me to maintain a fairly active lifestyle, but lifting alone isn’t cutting it anymore. Despite frequent exercise, I have struggled to get around more than usual for the past year or so, and that has made my world even smaller. Despite this, I persisted with a positive attitude and told myself, “it could be worse.” Not until the discomfort and limitations began to prevent me from doing things I should be doing, like meeting friends for breakfast, did I consider the possibility that things could be better. Making sure that I realized this was my wife Lynda who had been on me to try physical therapy, since my primary physician wrote a prescription for it a year and a half ago. I resisted because, though I am positive about almost everything else, I was pessimistic about what modern medicine could do for me. I had done physical therapy as a child, and have undergone several medical procedures that did little to improve my condition and seemed to provide only frustration. How was this going to be different? But it was. After only two sessions and a daily regimen of stretching and purposeful movement over the past four weeks, plus the strength training, I have already improved my mobility. Stairs are easier and walking, less painful and troublesome. That has greatly helped my energy level, focus and confidence. Even when I fell and sprained my ankle a couple of days ago, the recovery was easier. While things could definitely be better, they could also be much worse, as they were for me a month or so ago. Had I not relented and at least considered the possibility that things could be better, I would have continued being unnecessarily limited. Are you unnecessarily limited? If you are going through a difficult period in your life – maybe your job or a relationship isn’t as fulfilling as it once was – consider the possibility that things could be better. Always lean into gratitude for what you have, but don’t let resignation obscure options for improvement.