Counting has not been one of my strengths since my injury. I used to count out loud before transferring out of my wheelchair so Mommy would know when to brace. One day after I fell into bed (Hannah used to say, tiiiiimber!) Mommy said we should work on my counting.
I don’t count out loud anymore but now instead of counting time for transfers I count other things like reps, steps, and the number of floors if I’m trying to find my way in a building. It doesn’t help when other people miscount or intentionally mislead me. Examples:
Me to Trainer D: You’re doin’ real good on the counting thing today. [Grin] I like to give positive feedback when I can.
[2 minutes pass]
Me: I take it back. You’re doing bad. That was NOT 26. That was 31. I just did an extra to humor you.
Me: How many squats?
Coach R: 100
Me [holding the medicine ball nervously and looking wide-eyed at our reflection in the mirror]: Like, all at once?
Coach R: Just kidding.
Me: You can’t do that sort of thing to me. I have a brain injury. You KNOW I was going to start the set.
Coach R (unrepentantly): I know.
In the elevator on my way to see CMD
Me to the UPS guy: What floor?
UPS guy: 3
Me [peering confusedly at the buttons to make sure I was seeing straight]: But there are only 2 floors.
UPS guy: Hahahaahahaha!!
It was very good-natured mirth and I had to laugh with him. I like cheerful people and he was making his day on the job more fun, and brightening mine, too. It’s like what I tell my people – I’m here to make your world a happier place.
I’m in a position to do that since I’ve gotten pretty adept (out of necessity) at counting my blessings.
The bottom line, though, if someone asks me why in the world I should be cheering anyone else up is simple: I’m a daughter of The King.