Suffering, shmuffering

I am watching tv right now, CNN as a matter of fact and Paula Zahn is asking this mountaineering accident survivor how he managed to endure the pain of his broken leg. And he is all, "hmm, I do not know. I do not know how I endured the pain!"

But the unasked question is what goddam choice did the guy have? There's really no big mystery about how he survived the pain--he simply didn't have a choice.

When I was a girl my mother died. It was horrific. In some ways, at some times, it still is. When I was younger, a teenager, and people would find out that my mom died, girls would invariably say "Oh, I couldn't stand that. I would die if anything happened to my mom"

I am sure that if the tables were turned that I would say the very same thing. I loved my mom as much as any little girl loves her mom, maybe more (I had a really great mom for the time I had her).

But my point is, I survived it. I did not die, and I survived it again, not because of the indominable human spirit, or because of "spunkiness", or some amazing will to live. I survived it simply because I didn't have a choice.

Stop asking that question--how did you survive it? it's nothing but a meaningless question, that demands a dishonest answer.