I have a new respect for the disabled.

I've always been able to do pretty much anything I want to do, as much of it as I care to, for as long as I care to.

The past few months, howver, have changed that somewhat.

Recent months have given me a new appreciation of being able to do the most basic things in life.

In one way or another, I've been disabled the past year or so. That means I haven't been able to do some of the things I used to do without thinking.

About a year ago, I began having pain in my right shoulder. It was like having a red-hot wire laid on the joint if I moved the wrong way. The sawbones said it was a combination of overenthusiasm with the weights, and old age's wear and tear. Well, I cut back on the weights, stopped hitting the heavy bag, did the exercises the therapist gave me. Over the months, the pain went away.

Have it made, I thought to myself.

Six months or so ago, I tore a calf muscle. I did it while doing something I've done for years without thinking twice about -- pushing a car.When the muscle tore, it felt like someone had hit me in the back of the leg with a baseball bat.

After that, for the next few weeks, I hobbled painfully as the muscle regenerated itself. Gone were the mornings of walking and running a mile or two before breakfast, my dog gaily running alongside. I clanked slowly, painfully, for 1/10 of a mile, reduced to peering up the south end of a northbound dog as the cursed hound loped happily ahead of me.

Slowly, over the weeks, I was able to extend my morning mileage to 1/3 mile, then 1/2 mile, then a mile, then finally back to my normal route and speed.

I thought I was out of the woods.

Then came the kidney stones, the pain, and the rude things doctors do to you to try to cure you and get you to pass them. There were the bladder spasms, which set your life's schedule so you are no more than 10 seconds away from a toilet, or nearby tree or bush after dark.

There were the power meds for pain, which set you free but leave you unable to creatively think while fogged out under the influence. Since I have to create in my job herding words, and since I drive about 80 miles each day to and from work, guess who didn't take his pain meds during the day? Believe me, those days had fun written all over them.

Well, I've passed the last of the stones -- Plymouth Rock made its way through the garden hose -- and I'm back to normal now. But the whole experience with shoulder, leg and kidney stones has left me with a new respect for being able to live a normal life.

What's next? Who knows. I'm sure some problem is out of sight over the horizon, but steaming my way, soon to hove into view.

But to paraphrase Ziggy, anyone who gets up each morning and steps out of his house is just asking for it.

For now, I'm just enjoying being normal.

The moral of my feeble fable? I know I'm getting older, and my glass of water is half-empty. But I don't look at it that way.

Instead, I thank God every day my glass of water is still half-full.