Every time I write a blog I always come back to the same realization about how lucky I am, and I immediately stop writing. No one wants to read about someone's good fortune, and yet no matter what conflict I begin writing about, I always return to that thought.

My life is far from perfect: the school where I've worked for six years is closing and, in three weeks, I'll be without a job. Two years ago, I had routine knee surgery, but something went wrong and it left me legally handicapped, but also with chronic pain so severe that I'll spend the rest of my life in pain management programs. When I lose my job, I lose my benefits. Yesterday, my 80 year old father, his health has been failing of late, was taken to the hospital because we feared he was having a stroke.

Life is stressful. It's stressful for everyone, and yet even with all of this, I can't help but think about how lucky I am.

When I was growing up, my father would tell me there were so many people who go through the world miserable because they always want more than they have. "Always want more,' he would say. "There's nothing wrong with wanting more, but appreciate what you have." I guess I learned from him.

Rather than focus on the negative, I have to find something good. I'm legally handicapped, but I walk 5 miles a day on a treadmill and there's always a moment when I think about how wonderful it is just to be able to walk. I love that treadmill. It's painful and I need pain meds to do the workout, but I love it and do it religiously because it was only a year ago I feared a wheelchair was in my future.

I'm losing my benefits and that scares me because I still see doctors a few times a month and there are procedures scheduled and more planned. COBRE helps, but at $500 a month and no job, I don't know how long I'll be able to do it. The surgery went wrong, but there was no negligence on the part of the doctor, so there are no lawsuits pending or planned.

But all of that is nothing when I think about seeing my father in the hospital. He's old and he's been slowing of late, but he's my father and I always thought of him as somehow immortal.

My father has talked to me about death, his death, for as long as I can remember. He isn't morbid, but pragmatic. While my father was on his honeymoon, his father had a heart attack and died. The last time he saw his father, they hugged, kissed and expressed their love for the other. Nothing was left unsaid and so he never had any regrets, and that, he tells me is what's important.

If something should suddenly happen, he says, even if we're arguing or not speaking at the time, I'm to remember that he loves me and he knows I love him. No guilt and no regrets, he says. Yesterday, looking at him in that hospital bed, I realized, in a way, to me he is immortal because he is a part of me and I'm fortunate just to have him in my life.

It's so easy to get bogged down in the problems and stresses of life, but it is the simple pleasures and the appreciation for what we do have that matter.

I want more from life, not just stuff, but things that actually matter. I already have so much. When I look at my life, I can't help but worry about losing my father, my job, and my benefits, but always, I think about what I do have, instead of what I don't. I'm lucky, and this blog isn't getting edited or deleted because of it.