Monday Morning Musings from the Emergency Room

Mitch Arnold • September 25, 2023

It was a Monday morning, and though I wasn’t thinking about it, I probably needed the attitude adjustment that was about to come. Just an hour into my work week, I stood up from my desk and took a few steps to pour myself some water from the sink, but I never made it to the sink. Instead, I tripped and fell flat on my face, literally. The blood falling in large drops on the floor told me that this wasn’t going to be an average Monday.


Like many people, perhaps even you, my attitude is lackluster on Monday mornings. Enjoying time with family and friends, and the absence of structure, I’m much happier on the weekends than when facing the structure and pressures of the work week. That, plus the realization that I’m as far away from the weekend as I can get, make Monday mornings a struggle. On this particular Monday morning, a few weeks ago, the struggle was intensified.


Fortunately, I work from home, and my wife was home with me, though she was outside tending to her garden. It was my four-year-old granddaughter who heard the commotion and came to check on me. She’s a sharp little girl, and I’m thankful for that, because she was able to go outside and get Lynda. I’m also thankful that my wife is a physician assistant who sees lacerations often during her work at a primary clinic. Despite my protests and pleas that she pop some staples in my head, like she’s done before, she insisted that I go to the emergency room to get fixed up in a sterile environment. It’s a Monday morning, she said, they shouldn’t be busy.

They were VERY busy. Not only was the waiting room full, there were three ambulances in the bay, presumably carrying patients with larger concerns than the large vertical gash I sported on my forehead, so I settled into one of the few empty seats, and began my wait. At my urging, Lynda and Presley left to run some errands. Not only do I struggle with Monday mornings, patience while waiting is also a weakness; however, I felt a calmness that day.


I didn’t have a phone or TV to entertain me, and the sparse newspaper that I bled all over didn’t take me long to read, so I was left with my thoughts and observations. All around me were people awaiting treatment and their loved ones who were trying to comfort them. Two young families with fathers who looked absolutely miserable were among the crowd. One carried a plastic pitcher as a safety net, in case he couldn’t make it to the bathroom in time to vomit. The other seemed to be suffering from a migraine or some other intense head pain. Both wives rubbed their husbands’ backs and encouraged them.


I didn’t find comfort seeing strangers suffering, but I found peace in the love and faith that filled the waiting room, and I was reminded that I’m not the only one with health struggles. Because I work from home, I often don’t see anyone but my family and the gym crowd during the week, and I rarely see anyone with a worse physical handicap than I have. Sitting in that waiting room, I began to realize that I had inadvertently became kind of smug in my ability to handle my daily struggles.


Struggle is universal. We’re all going to face it, if we haven’t already, and it’s often unpleasant. However, with the right attitude, we can put struggle in its proper place – as a part of life, but not a limiter of life. Ironically, my trip to the emergency room actually improved my attitude that Monday morning. It realigned my perspective and made me realize that my normal Monday morning self-pity was unnecessarily limiting my appreciation of the opportunities that possibly awaited me in the new week.


If you’re struggling today or any day, take a few minutes to reflect in gratitude and to remind yourself that you’re not alone, but that it’s up to you to find the right attitude to put the struggles behind you.


_______



For those keeping score, this is my second trip to the emergency room to get my head stitched up. One more, and the next one’s free! With the 26 stitches I got that day, plus multiple staples Lynda has added at home, my head is starting to look like a jigsaw puzzle, but I keep plugging along. Have a great day!

Acceptance vs. Resistance

By Mitch Arnold • May 28, 2025
I bought my first and only motorcycle in 1993. It probably wasn’t a good idea then, and it’s a much worse idea now, but that didn’t stop me from recently considering doing it again. I was only 23 years old and still in my invincible era, when I strapped on my helmet and rode off on my own two wheels for the first time. Understandably, a few naysayers shook their heads and voiced their opinions about me endangering a body that was already fraught with challenges; however, like I did often back then, I ignored their concerns, and was able to ride with no problems. To me, the motorcycle represented freedom. I loved being able to enjoy the open road. I even rode it on a thousand-plus mile round-trip journey to Sturgis for the annual motorcycle rally. Getting kind of smug, I began to envision myself as a life-long biker, but two years later, life intervened. I was moving half-way across the country and getting married, so the motorcycle had to go. In fact, I sold it to pay for an engagement ring, promising myself that I would buy another one when I was established and had the finances to do so. Things didn’t work out the way that I had planned. Fatherhood and home ownership ate up my finances and time, and a second motorcycle kept getting pushed down the line of priorities. Meanwhile, despite my best efforts, my body aged more quickly than I had hoped it would. For most of my life, my resistance to my physical limitations has enabled me to get the most out of imperfect body. Tell me that I couldn’t do something, and you could bet that I was going to try, if only to prove to myself that I could. That resistance allowed me to overcome significant challenges and to succeed when success didn’t seem likely. Lately though, as my limitations have grown and my sense of self-preservation has become stronger, I’ve been trending toward acceptance. Both acceptance and resistance are natural responses to change, and change happens to all of us, especially as we age. While resistance can challenge the status quo, sparking innovation and resilience, acceptance often opens the door to growth, fostering a sense of peace and adaptability. That’s where I’m at now, at least most of the time. Still, when my uncle told me that he was selling his motorcycle, those thoughts of acceptance were elbowed aside by thoughts of resistance. I began to rationalize motorcycle ownership and to imagine myself in the seat again, handlebars in my grip. I could now afford the bike of my dreams, and even had a spot in the garage to park it. I didn’t plan to ride it to Sturgis again, but I thought it would be fun to ride it to the gym and on quiet Sunday mornings, like I used to do. When I researched parking a motorcycle in a handicapped space, I should have realized that insanity of the idea, but resistance tamped down logic. My wife, to her credit, let me play those scenarios out in my head and gave me room to dream, knowing that logic would eventually prevail. And, it did. One slip-up on a bike, and I would suddenly and dramatically limit what I could do with the rest of my life. Accepting that reality was important, and I’m happy that I was able to do it.  Being able to accept who I am – all of it, even the limitations – has given me peace and perspective. It’s not always easy to accept limitations and new realities, but it’s crucial if we want to live a life without regret, and I’m finally there.

Live – Love – Repeat

By Mitch Arnold • April 6, 2025
I lost a close friend to cancer last month, and though sadness will always linger, it’s overshadowed by the gratitude I have for his friendship. Yes, his early death seemed unfair, unusually cruel and senseless, but his approach to life, especially during the dire situation of his last months, was nothing short of inspiring. Jamie was only 47, which is about eight years younger than me. He was a husband and father of three young girls who have yet to reach high school. He was also an integral part of a very close and loving family. Because he was one of those guys who made the world a better place everywhere he went, his network of friends was massive. Always a positive and cheerful person, he became even more so after his stage four cancer diagnosis. I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when he called me with that crushing news, on a Sunday afternoon, a little more than six months ago. While I was shocked, he was remarkably upbeat. He said that he felt good, and that he had a plan to attack the cancer. “I’ll be OK,” he reassured me, before hanging up. Still, I called him the next day. I had to make sure that he was really OK and to reassure myself that I was doing everything I could do as a friend. “Just pray,” he said, when I asked him if there was any way that I could help. He went on to tell me how he had begun to embrace religion, even before his diagnosis, and that a priest was helping him sort out his emotions and stay positive. Also on his side were all of the people – friends and family alike – who loved him. He said that so many people were praying for him and doing nice things for his family that it was almost overwhelming, but that he appreciated each and every one. He told me that he could feel the effects of all of those prayers, and that it was helping. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to recover, and cancer won, which left many of us sad and searching for answers. My initial emotions were heavy on the frustration and sadness of losing a friend way too early, but the more that I thought about Jamie, the less that I thought about his final battle. Eventually, I focused less on his death and more on his life. Jamie’s time with us was full of life and love, and cancer shined a huge spotlight on that. Even during that challenging time, he was the same cheerful person who was more interested in the people around him than he was of his own struggles. As we gathered to celebrate his life, there were smiles and laughter among the tears. Because he lived so fully and loved so deeply, we all had happy stories to tell and memories to embrace. Jamie showed me many things through our years of friendship. First and foremost, he showed me that it’s important to live every day to its fullest. No matter what he was doing, he was doing it with a smile and genuine enthusiasm. He seized every possible opportunity to enjoy life, even during those hard months at the end. Second, he showed me the power of love. He cared deeply about his friends and family, and he not only said it, but he showed it too. That love was reciprocated, especially when the end was near.  Jamie set a standard that we should all aspire to. If we can treat every day as a gift to be treasured, and seize every opportunity to show love to those around us, we can make the world around us a better place, just like Jamie did.
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