Unavoidable Pain

Unavoidable Pain

That is what I am thinking about as I drive home from the hospital tonight.  Unavoidable pain – like the pain after surgery.  .  Chuck  had a five hour surgery Monday removing cancer from his colon and kidney and now is swollen with “air” or “gas”, When you touch him it feels like there are rice crispies under his skin.  Yesterday morning his face, chest and arms were clearly affected and there was excruciating pain in his shoulder.

I have seen him in pain before, but nev

er like this.  He is generally uncomplaining and was literally yellilng when he had to move from a seated position to lying down in the bed.   I felt helpless standing there, kneading his shoulder and saying “Oh, honey.”  There was nothing else I could do.

The nurses have done their best and tried medication, icy patches, and hot towels.  Nothing seems to work and everyone says that he just has to keep moving so that eventually the “air” will dissipate.  Moving means a parade of me, Chuck, his IV and Bobby Jo, his wonderful blond buxom nurse.  Three times a day he  walks up and down the floor past  the rooms of other recovering patients.  Chuck is wearing his brown silk pajamas and Bobby Jo  assures  him he looks like “Hugh Hefner.”  Every walk takes effort  just to get him standing  and then additional suffering  returning him to lying on the bed again.  We trust this will make a difference.

My children ask: “Isn’t there something they can give him for the pain?” and the answer is no.  He just has to endure it and wait for healing.  

And as I drive home in the dark after a 12 hour day as his wife and companion, I think about all the times that we just have to endure pain and wait for healing.  The past six months I have been companioning a friend at the end of her marriage and her emotional pain at first was as awful as Chuck’s physical pain  has been today. She did not want her marriage to end, but she had no choice once her spouse said no.  And so – unavoidable pain.

I spent quite a lot of time with her -  especially in the beginning  - as friend and companion.  I was Helpless in the face of her pain and yet present to witness and in some way share it with her.   We would frequently have lunch, drink wine, take walks and in some way I would be saying “Oh, honey.”  Like Chuck today, I would say “It’s going to get better.”    And now, six months later, it really has and in every way it is better.  She is a different person as she has  painfully walked through the grief of loss, regret, and rejection and has found peace and a new life.  But the pain was real and for a long time – unavoidable.

I have, of course, been through this myself over the years.  There was physical pain of childbirth and the emotional pain of divorce, death, and times of failure.   When we are in pain, we often think it will never go away.  I would say: “ I want to  just curl up in the closet with my thumb in my mouth. “ 

Companions are a gift to us in our painful times.  People who walk with us, often silent and yet present and occasionally saying “oh honey” . They are invaluable as  we find the strength to take the next step down the hall that may  eventually lead to healing.  

(i wrote this for my "women writing for a change" class which I had to miss yesterday)