It’s funny how life experiences and events can drastically alter
our perspectives.
This morning I was headed to work, and saw a familiar blue tractor
trailer that my dad spent the better part of 8 years driving. Inside
the cab was a man who didn’t look to be any older than I am. Part
of me wanted to chase him down and beg him to listen to my dad’s
story. I wanted to save his family from the heartbreak and heartache
of that job.
Don’t get me wrong – I have a lot of respect for those people
driving those big rigs. Without them we wouldn’t have groceries,
new cars, clothes, medicines and just about everything else. They
move freight from across the country just so we can have bananas from
wherever they come from, or strawberries from California. They serve
an important purpose. But that job it so….unglamourous. Sure, they
get to see the country, and witness so many breathtaking views, but
they also spend their life exhausted and so many of them put their
health on the back burner just to make a living.
My dad was one of them. 2 massive heart attacks at 52. Early
retirement. Living off of disability because he can never work again.
Chronic health problems. Disrupted sleep patterns. General
unhappiness at being forced to give up on the future he and my mom
had planned.
I wanted to chase that young man down and tell him to get plenty
of rest. And as awesome as truck stop food is to swap out the greasy
cheeseburger for a salad and grilled fish every now and then. To get
some exercise; walk around the truck stop, do sprints the length of
your truck and trailer. Don’t smoke. Ever. My father lives on
oxygen and will for the rest of his life because of emphysema and
other breathing issues because of smoking. He can’t even walk from
the living room to the bathroom without getting winded. Avoid the
energy drinks. When your body is that tired that it needs a stimulant
to keep going, it’s trying to tell you to rest, so you don’t wear
it out too early.
I realize that he could have the “not me” attitude that so
many people have, myself included. I never believed I would be
touched by infertility, yet here I am.
That truck driver lifestyle will kill you. It will destroy your
family. Your wife will cave under the stress and quit taking care of
herself. She’ll fall into a depression because of the lack of money
and will rarely leave the house. Her health will suffer. And your
kids. They will realize that their parents aren’t immune to old age
and dying. They will look to the future and wonder what you’ll be
around to see. Your grand kids will wonder if you will see them
graduate from high school. Wedding day's. The birth of their first
child. Will you live long enough for the kids to remember Poppy? Of
course, if you don’t take advantage of the wake up call they will
wonder if you’ll still be around in 3 years to see them graduate
from college or whether or not you’ll even be able to walk into the
arena if you are still around.
We only get so many chances. At some point parts fail, body’s
wear out, and suddenly that heart healthy diet doesn’t look so bad
in the grand scheme of things. I wanted to tell that truck driver
that no job is worth losing your health for. I wanted to tell him how
short life is, and how quickly things can change. I wanted to remind
him that there are people who love him, and would grieve his untimely
demise. He doesn’t want to be 56 and rely on his parents still. He
wants to provide for his family, he wants to be there for all those
big moments and for the little moments too.
I want to remind him that it’s not too late to make sure that he
doesn’t end up like my father. His family will thank him. Too bad I
can’t slip him a pair of my dad’s shoes and let him walk a mile,
or to the bathroom in them. Too bad we can’t slip everyone those
shoes – imagine the world we would live in if we could all take a
minute to not be so wrapped up in our own little world that we
remember how to sympathize.
Thank a truck driver today, and pray for their health, and their
families. They will thank you for it.
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