Applying wise old sayings to a different body with COPD
I'm revisiting motivational things my parents used to say, with a new perspective
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I grew up in a home where encouragement was woven into the walls. My mother offered it from the kitchen table while stirring supper and guiding me through homework. My father shared it from his living room chair, patient and steady as he walked me through math problems.
Their sayings floated through those rooms like familiar music: “If at first you don’t succeed, try and try again.” “When you fall down, get up and go on.” “Keep on keeping on.”
For most of my life, those words worked just as intended. They carried me through school, work, and the ordinary stumbles of growing up. They were simple, sturdy tools, the kind you tuck in your pocket and trust.
But living with chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD) changes how those old sayings land. When breathing becomes unpredictable, when exacerbations arrive like uninvited guests, and when illness follows illness, “try again” can start to feel like judgment instead of encouragement. “Get up and go on” can sound like a dare your body can’t comply with. And “keep on keeping on” — well, some days, that feels like the most exhausting assignment of all.
Even the gentler sayings shift under the weight of chronic illness. “Into every life a little rain must fall” sounds different when the rain feels endless. “Let a smile be your umbrella” can seem like pressure to hide the storm. And “the higher you climb, the better the view” doesn’t always apply when the climb itself is the challenge.
But when I think back to those childhood rooms, I realize something important: My parents weren’t telling me to push past my limits. They weren’t asking me to pretend the rain wasn’t real. They were simply sitting with me, helping me, believing I could take the next small step, not the whole staircase.
Now, I’ve started to reinterpret their wisdom in ways my body can embrace. “Try again” now means trusting that tomorrow might offer a gentler day.
“Get up and go on” can be as simple as shifting in your chair and taking a single, steady breath.
“Keep on keeping on” becomes permission to rest, to move at your own pace, to honor a body that’s doing its best.
And “let a smile be your umbrella” becomes an invitation to notice one small kindness in the day — not to hide the storm, but to remind yourself that the sky is still there.
There’s one more saying my father saved for the moments he wanted me to truly listen. He’d close the math book, lean back, and say, “If you have a million‑dollar smile, you won’t need a million dollars. When you’re in need, the people you’ve touched will each pitch in a dollar.”
I didn’t understand the depth of that when I was young. But I do now. COPD has shown me that the real wealth in life isn’t strength or stamina — it’s the people who show up when the rain is heavy, who steady you on the climb, and who offer small kindnesses until they add up to something that carries you through.
Perhaps that’s the truest saying of all.
Note: COPD News Today is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always consult your physician or other qualified healthcare provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of COPD News Today or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues about chronic obstructive pulmonary disease.
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