When it comes to complaining, there are two extremes. Those who complain about everything and those who never complain.

For years I’ve been hearing the warning not to ask an old person how they are unless you’re ready to spend a long time listening to a litany of complaints.

Fair or not, older people have gotten a bad rap for complaining too much about health problems. I belonged to one particular book club that had a rule against talking about health issues.

They had to make that rule because some members wasted everyone’s time talking about nothing but their latest complaint.

Like a lot of others, I don’t go into personal issues with people I’m not close to.

It’s why so many of us answer the greeting of “How are you?” with a stock answer. We say we’re fine, whether we are or not.

My classic story that illustrates that point is my experience in the hospital emergency room in the middle of the night.

Someone I knew vaguely came in and when she recognized me she asked how I was.

I was so sick that it was an effort to hold my head up. Yet, I answered her by saying, “I’m great. How are you?”

She said she was also great.

It was comical in that we both acted as if we had nothing to do at 2 in the morning so we visited the emergency room.

I level with my closest friends, telling them what’s going on with me health-wise. But I keep it brief. They do the same with me.

My close friend Jean has enough serious medical problems to fill a book. You could never tell by looking at her. She always seems to have a radiant smile on her face. Yet that radiance belies her serious health problems.

Jean was in my women’s group but I didn’t know her that well until she was in a serious auto accident and had to spend a long time in the hospital flat on her back.

The crash broke her back, among other serious injuries. Because she lives alone and was already using a wheelchair because of other health issues we worried about her recovery.

Social services thought she needed to be in a nursing home but Jean wouldn’t hear of it. She was determined she could live alone.

Some friends kept telling Jean there was no way she could manage her own place when she could no longer bend down.

I thought she should try, if that’s what she wanted.

Our women’s group took turns helping her. It wasn’t a chore because Jean is fascinating and her strong resolve doesn’t include one ounce of pity. Jean’s only daughter lives across the country yet makes it possible for her mother to manage on her own. She flies in every month and cooks and freezes enough meals for the month. An aide comes in for three hours a day to help Jean manage.

I’ve spent hours talking with her. In all that time she tells fascinating stories about her adventures. What she doesn’t readily tell are the atrocities she’s had to endure.

Jean has always had a hard life. Sexually abused as a child she nevertheless focuses on her only happy childhood memory - the glorious two weeks she went to Girl Scout Camp.

I won’t tell you what she had to endure both in childhood and as an adult. You would cringe at all the ugliness that came her way.

Yet she is the most radiant person I know. Always smiling to the point where she glows, she seems to be lit from within with her special radiance.

I always marvel at how thankful she is for each day of life, regardless of her serious medical issues.

Muscular dystrophy keeps making every single movement difficult. Yet, she continues to shine.

She has complete faith in the God she says has always been there for her. Most of all, she has joy. Sheer joy that shines within her.

Some people are grateful when their life is good. The blessed person is the one that is thankful for every single day, regardless of trials.

When I want to have an in-depth conservation about faith and perseverance, I call her. Others do too.

We marvel at how she never complains, staying happy and grounded.

After my gallbladder surgery that resulted in complications that were sometimes embarrassing I started to have a pity party.

In the midst my meltdown Jean called.

She told me about going to a day long program by herself. The friend she was going with had just died but her husband said he would still drive Jean.

It was only when she was sitting in the long program that she realized she had forgotten something important. She no longer had her friend to help her manage in the ladies room.

“I was forced to ask a complete stranger for help. When she agreed she didn’t know how much help I needed,” Jean said.

She said she learned to ask for help when it’s needed because people are always willing to help. “And they feel good when they do,” she said.

That was it. She made me realize I had nothing to complain about. My pity party was over.

Jean said, no matter what happens her constant prayer is “Thank you.”

No wonder she’s so radiant.

Contact Pattie Mihalik at newsgirl@comcast.net