This new book in the successful Healthy Living series - inspirational stories followed by positive, practical medical advice for caregivers and patients - addresses an issue that is endemic among older Americans.

The good news is that we are living longer: The bad news is that many aging people are living with some type of pain. In fact, 66 million people (nearly 1 in 3 adults) have doctor-diagnosed arthritis; 23.2 million people are living with chronic joint pain. Here is a book to offer them information and inspiration in an easy-to-read, trusted formula.

In the Healthy Living series, Chicken Soup for the Soul partners with the nation’s top medical experts and organizations to give emotional support and important information to people with specific medical needs. The books feature approximately twelve positive, heartwarming stories from real people, followed by relevant expert medical advice that will positively impact the reader’s life. Subjects such as diet, psychological issues, family relations, and alternative therapies exist side-by-side with traditional subjects such as understanding common medical terms, the effects of treatment options, and the doctor-patient relationship. Each book contains source notes and a resources section for more information and support.

The Gift of Receiving

Several years ago, when I was diagnosed with severe osteoarthritis in both hips, I read every book, magazine and medical pamphlet I could find about coping with chronic illness. I was amazed at how often I'd stumble on a paragraph that advised patients to 'look for the gift in your pain.'

Pain is a gift? Thanks, but no thanks, I'd mutter to myself. I had just turned forty-four and hadn't planned on slowing down so soon. I still had miles to go with my journalism career and a family that included a very active teenager. If pain was my gift, well, where was the return policy? Within a year of my diagnosis, the disease progressed so quickly that total hip replacement surgery was my only option.

By that time, I was unable to walk without assistive devices. Even on a good day, it hurt so much to crawl out of bed that I refused to unplug my heating pad and leave the house. Suddenly I was certifiably disabled—even qualified for a 'handicapped' parking permit. Having been fit and active most of my adult life, I was way too proud to let others watch me struggle on a walker. I hated to appear needy. I didn't want pity. So I started canceling lunch dates and appointments, and tried to hide behind a steely mask of self-sufficiency.

But my closest friends and family members ­didn't buy any of it. And it was through their patience and love that I finally discovered the 'gift' in chronic illness: It slowly unravels your pride and opens you to the boundless generosity of other people.

Of course, stubborn self-reliance isn't the sole province of the disabled. Most women I know pride themselves on being nurturers, fixers, problem-solvers, givers. We'll supply all the brownies for the bake sale at school after we've organized the rummage sale at church. We'll rearrange our schedules to babysit other people's kids. Just ask, and we'll triple our workload at the office and still make it to the evening PTA meeting. Yet some of us would rather have a wisdom tooth pulled than ask somebody else for a favor when we need it. As a girlfriend told me recently, 'It's my job to be the glue that holds everyone and everything together. I can't ask for help.'

The truth is, people who care about us really do want to help—if only we'd drop the facade of total self-reliance and admit that we're not all-powerful all the time.  

Discussing the aftermath of September 11 and the cleanup at Ground Zero, a talk show host suggested that if anything positive rose from the ashes of the tragedy, it was that America quickly evolved from a 'Me' nation into a 'We' nation. As she explained it, even the most self-absorbed among us realized that we cannot function as individual islands. We need each other. It was a good lesson for me to review so soon after my first hip replacement surgery. Strapped to a hospital bed and hooked to several tubes, including an IV, I was hit with the sobering reality that I wasn't going anywhere by myself.

And during the early weeks of my recovery, I had no choice but to graciously accept support from my family and friends. When my husband processed mountains of laundry at home, I tried not to feel guilty. When our neighbors sent casseroles or offered to drive my carpool shift to school, I swallowed my pride and allowed their care to work like a healing balm. And it did. As hard as it was to surrender, I discovered there's real strength in vulnerability.

Deep down, I still believe it's more blessed to give than to receive. And I still believe that putting the needs of others first isn't such a bad precept to live by—unless it renders you incapable of accepting a favor or asking for help when you really need it. Nobody climbs her mountain alone.

™ Cindy La Ferle

©2008. Cindy La Ferle. All rights reserved. Reprinted from Chicken Soup for the Soul Healthy Living Series by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen, David Pisetsky. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the written permission of the publisher. Publisher: Health Communications, Inc., 3201 SW 15th Street , Deerfield Beach , FL 33442.