Shortly after my awesome physical therapist had come over and fixed my wheelchair the day after my accident a few weeks ago, Mom asked me what I had done to surround myself with such good people.
I don't know.
It isn't just my PT. Friends, and sometimes strangers, pick me up when I fall in the bathroom at work. When I get stuck or can't reach Fame's poop, I have a phone full of contacts who will help.
I have my friends who put my hearing aids back.
It was no different at other jobs either. People help me with Claren or pulled up my pants or gave me the key to the building so I could use the elevator.
And of course, there's my family.
It's not me.
I don't mean I am a jerk, but it is them, not me.
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