My leg's pain triggered me, so I fought PTSD flashbacks all night until 6am.  Then this morning at 9am I stepped out of my hotel room on my crutches and tripped over them and fell head first to the floor in front of the desk clerk and all of the guests in the lobby.  Massive bruise to shin and ego.  

Argh. 

My gratitude is that 3 people rushed over and picked me up off of the floor.  Thank goodness for them. I feel like a fool--no fool like an old fool.The restaurant across the street sends waiters over to me at meal times and I get to eat on a table in the lobby, so I'm grateful for that nice attention.

I flew all the way to Mexico to the place where I plan to retire, yet I haven't been out of the hotel beyond the lobby in 3 days now.  Don't know when I will, so I'm praying for patience.  Working on it.  Sure could get through this pain, insomnia, and isolation a little better if the pain didn't keep triggering PTSD flashbacks.

Being on crutches during a vacation trip reminds me of when I was 9 years old in Uruguay.  I went off to a YMCA summer camp and got away from my wacky parents for a week.  We kids hiked up a mountain with our counselors and I slipped climbinb a boulder and fell and broke my knee cap.  I had to have a cast put on my left leg from groin to ground. 

My parents, as usual, were wandering, so there was no answer back at my house when the camp counselors called and called to notify them of my broken leg.  This was before cell phones, so that was it.  My folks didn't know I'd broken my leg until they came to pick me up like parents did for the rest of the kids at the end of the week.  To save face in front of the other parents there picking up their kids, my mom threw a fit accusing the counselors of neglect.  I stood there ashamed of her antics, because really I felt that was unfair.  The counselors had taken good care of me and they had called my parents repeatedly. 

That was the day I realized I'd have to get nurture from people outside of my home in Uruguay to care for me because inside my home there was no competence for that.  Those people always did show up somehow, whether they were Uruguayan neighbors or Uruguayans from church, wherever.  As the saying goes, the Lord did provide the nurture even if my parents provided beatings and abuse.  Somebody from outside the home always showed up for me.

The kindness of the hotel staff here in Mexico reminded me of that care, too.  I don't want to forget that and give in to impatience.  I want to stay grateful.  Any support for maintaining an attitude of gratitude is most welcome.