Dear Readers,

If you've been giving care to someone any time at all, you have discovered that it's usually not as much fun as an all-expenses-paid trip to some fancy resort, where they bring libations to you at poolside, and the drinks all have little umbrellas in them.

Sometimes caregiving is the exact opposite of a vacation.

Sometimes, even an ordeal.

You've got your stories, I've got mine — but I've discovered a great way to get past the rough patches we hit while looking after someone.

Count your blessings. Not just the good things that may be going on in your life at the moment. To do it right, be sure to count everything that's been sufficiently wonderful for you to remember. I think you'll find a rich stream of serendipities.

I was amazed at how many breaks I got while growing up — and growing old. You, too, can sit down when you get a moment and be thankful for all the luck you've had as a newborn, a rug rat, a school-age kid, an adolescent, and (if you were so blessed) as a parent with children of your own. And be sure to reminisce about all the times it looked like everything was going into the dumper, but miraculously did not.

Reach deeply into your memory banks. But first, come with me, as I dive briefly into mine.

I had parents who loved me unconditionally from the moment I came into the world.

Siblings who, like me, thought we had stumbled into some exclusive, fabulous club (our family).

Friends who have been in my corner since Heck was a pup.

Teachers so dedicated, they sparked in me a desire to learn.

A wondrous woman who always made me feel important and alive.

Marvelous health, to this day (with a medical history mostly of piffles not worthy of mention).

An easy hitch as draftee in the peacetime Army. (Shouted at, but never shot at.)

A good run in the workplace.

And a long retirement.

In short, I've had unbelievably good fortune — enough so to make me think I have an overzealous guardian angel.

I've made a whole lot of unwise decisions, but I have always been spared the worst possible consequences.

Some of the things I did could have gotten me busted or killed, but I got a pass on all of it.

I could have burned myself up seven decades ago while playing with matches.

(I did set the garage on fire. And a vacant lot or two.)

I also could have gotten myself a criminal record for shoplifting or vandalism before I got out of grade school.

Or blown off my fingers, experimenting with the gunpowder from “Piccolo Petes” on the Fourth of July for several years.

Or fallen into Earthquake Fault in Mammoth Lakes, California, at age 18, because I (barely) jumped across it to entertain tourists.

Or blown myself up, experimenting with the explosive power of sticks of dynamite and nitroglycerin while clearing trails for the U.S. Forest Service at Mammoth Lakes in my early 20s.

What an idiot.

Long story short, until I married the wondrous woman, I went out of my way to crash and burn — but I always got bailed out.

Do you suppose maybe I was being lined up for caregiver duty the whole time, and my number came up in the autumn of my life?

An interesting theory, if I do say so, myself.

I certainly am “giving back” now!

One more word about caregiving.

One of its rewards is the sense of nobility I get for being kind of selfless.

I don't wallow in my sense of being noble, but it is a definite perk!

Don't be embarrassed if you find yourself feeling noble, too.

Sometimes it can get you through a really crumby day with flying colors!

—Michael E. Hearons