Old

I love my job.
I hate my job.
According to Luke 2:36-37 "very old" is 84.  Working at a community hospital... in an aging community... 84 starts to look really young.  I worked on the inpatient rehab unit today.  It was a long day and it definitely did not go as it should.  I finished the day feeling worn out, tired, angry, annoyed and so thankful that I have tomorrow off. 
Currently I am watching the Olympics. 
The best of the best:
running fast,
falling precisely into the water,
guiding a half-ton animal over various jumps,
slamming a ball into the sand...
As I quickly run to the bathroom during a commercial I flash back to another toilet transfer today.  Grabbing the bar firmly anchored in the wall with both hands, using all his strength, he barely managed to pull his butt off the seat. Standing in my bathroom I mimic his gait to my couch. I walked 10 feet. It took 3 minutes. Ten days ago he was driving 30 minutes everyday to his job and he considered himself "semi-retired." Today it took 4 tries just to stand up.
How long before my muscles fail me?  How long before lifting my arms over my head more than once completely wears me out?  How long before walking from my bathroom to my couch will become the most intimidating voyage? More importantly... how do I bring hope to those who are there now?  What can I say?  Congrats on actually standing long enough to take a shower?  How do I encourage without sounding trite?  This is the love-hate relationship I have with my job.  A chance to inspire someone to push through their current illness and live again. The challenge of convincing those who have already given up to just keep trying.
I hate my job.
I love my job.