Pain Drain

The greatest evil is physical pain. ~ St. Augustine.

After work, I visited a friend who had had knee surgery yesterday. Just looking at her, I knew she was in great pain. I did not stay long as I know first hand what it is like to have to try to be pleasant to guests when really you have a silent moan going on in your head. When I was 20 years old, I had a life changing experience. I had surgery for a tumor that had grown on my hip. That pain was insane. Besides the regular post-surgery pain, it felt like my bone had been sawed off with fire. That probably doesn’t make sense to anyone who has not experienced that kind of burning pain. Just count yourself lucky you don't understand.

I am no stranger to pain. A former pastor who suffered greatly with breathing problems used to say to me that it was nothing like the pain I had—that was pain he could not tolerate. He had had sciatica pain for a few days. I have had it for years. Oddly enough, most people have no idea that I had such excruciating pain. I hated talking about it. I always thought people could see it in my eyes. Every time I looked in the mirror, I was struck by what I saw. Why talk about it when it seemed so clear to me that the pain was overwhelming? One day, when the pain seemed especially unbearable, I thought that I understood why people kill themselves because of pain. I was not suicidal but I did get that people would do anything to end that kind of constant pain.

When I look back over my journey of pain, I refused to give in. I wanted to live as normally as I could without people’s pity or concern. I was so convincing that I think even the specialists had no idea how severe my condition was. I was not going to let the pain win. Pain did feel like a dark evil force in my life that I was constantly arm-wrestling. The pain killers would ease the pain for ten minutes. Woohoo! I would spend two days in bed, sleeping, when I should have been hospitalized. I had even convinced myself that the throbbing pain was not so bad—certainly not worth a visit to an emergency room. Reflecting back, I have to shake my head at the one neurologist who told my family doctor that I had a low pain threshold. I later described the pain as a hammer smashing up and down my leg every single day 24 hours a day from my gluts to the top of my foot. For 48 hours a month, the additional joy of the feeling of someone taking an ice pick and stabbing me up and down the length of my nerve would just about do me in.

Now, life is not completely pain-free but I manage the lingering effects of my condition better and in comparison, it is a pleasant walk in the park most days. Pain is indeed a great evil and as such, raging against it has its place.

Peace,

Suzanne