Last Friday, my mom fell and broke her leg. A trip to the ER and an X-ray told her she’d need surgery to repair—surgery which, for reasons unbeknownst to me, could not take place until the following Tuesday. Oh the anticipation.
I’m happy to report that my mom made it through the “procedure” just fine. After an hour-long surgery and a sleepless night in the hospital, she is now home resting—and healing—in her own bed. The first thing I asked her when she arrived home was, “Aren’t you so relieved the surgery is over? Don’t you feel so much better today than you did two days ago when you were still waiting for the surgery to happen?” Her response: “Yes, I’m relieved, but I’m in PAIN.”
I’d been so focused on her getting through the anxiety and worry (and anesthesia) of the surgery that I’d given little thought to how much physical pain she’d be in.
This got me to thinking about life’s various forms of pain. In my mind, there are two types: physical and emotional.
I suffer from anxiety—always have and probably always will. I am no stranger to panic attacks. I’ve even dabbled in depression from time to time. Emotional pain—worry, panic, anguish, sorrow—has kicked me to the ground more times than I care to count. Though I work hard every day to maintain a positive attitude and keep the unproductive thoughts at bay, it’s not always easy. Many of my goals in life revolve around my quest for emotional health. With a continued focus on productive thought patterns, I hope to get better and better each day at managing my emotions—at keeping my emotional pain levels under control.
That said, I am no stranger to physical pain either. I also suffer from an unstable patella—two in fact. This pretty much means that if the wind blows the wrong way, my knees dislocate. Pain is pain. Whether emotional or physical, neither brand of pain is enjoyable.
I know life is full of ups and downs. I know I will have another panic attack in my life, just as I know my knees will again dislocate. Both have the power to crush me. But for me, the key to managing the pain is to focus on the light at the end of the tunnel, have faith in a better tomorrow and come through the experience somehow stronger.
I realize this goal may a lofty one. I realize that healing from pain—any pain—is one of life’s biggest challenges. But goals aren’t supposed to be easy, are they?
I don’t envy my mom’s position right now—being laid up in bed with throbbing pain and a mammoth cast on her leg. But my hope for her is that she will set her sights on the day when her leg is fully healed and she can walk on two feet again. My hope for her is that she will find some silver lining through this difficult experience and come out the other end better for it in some way.
Pain is a natural part of our lives. Nobody enjoys it and most of us try to avoid it, but it touches us all, nonetheless. It’s what we do with the pain that’s important.
Life in motion 