Mrs. Hoffman drove without cartilage in her knees.
Bubby couldn’t draw a full breath after walking a full block.
Zaidy was in so much pain he didn’t notice new ones – his doctor had to be the one to tell him.
None of them complained.
I was under doctor’s orders to stay immobile unless absolutely necessary, on decreasing amounts of pain medication, and with a head still clearing from the anesthesia. And everyone wanted to know how I was doing. My responses varied from “Great!” to “a-ok.”
“You know you can complain?” a friend asked, after watching me wince in pain as I shifted my weight from the couch on which I was lounging.
I could walk.
I could breath.
I could tell when I was in pain.
I had no complaints.