I Hate Pain!

I hate pain! While Stephanie was growing up before my eyes, I forbid the use of that four-letter word. I cringed when hearing the overuse of this verb by toddlers and teenagers alike. I hate peas. I hate math. I hate you! Do peas really cause that strong of a reaction as hate? Try math, you might come to like it more when you understand it better! (Boy, that statement works well with people also!) What did your parent do that causes you to use such a violent word that breaks the heart of the person who loves you so much? Does hate last for just a few minutes, only for it then to be magically transformed into love without any action by either party?

Yet, I sit at my computer using the dreaded word. I purposefully made this decision last night, and my viewpoint has not wavered one iota. I admit few individuals exist who would so closely deliberate the use of a term considered basic in today’s society. Yet I tell you this so you know the degree to which my hatred has grown. I hate pain!

Pain has crashed upon the souls of this home with continuous pounding and thrashing. I’ve used all my effort to jump above its swells only to be thrown against the rocks of agony. I’m ignorant of ways to ignore pain’s torment as I fall victim to the true affliction of this word.

Now most of you might be confused about the strong nature of this post. I’m the one with rose-colored glasses who jokes about my medical status and plunges through my discomfort. I’ve learned the best defense against this nasty opponent is to choose the positive attitude. I don’t intend to change that reaction. Regardless, I need to take time to shout out, “I hate pain!”

Bob’s body has continued to be wracked with chronic pain for over three years. When this distress has lasted month after month, it deteriorates the psyche and stretches to overcome the nature of all loving caregivers. Confusion, disbelief and surrender blanket the entire home. When both residents suffer from chronic pain, an air of defeat pounds down on the occupants.

I hate pain! I hate my inability to hold a pencil to write things down. I hate that my husband so readily falls when his legs lack the strength to hold him. I hate the bandages that have so frequently covered my body in attempts to alleviate the pain. I hate the cost of medications that overflow from drawers and cabinets. I hate that we can’t join our peers for dinner since neither of us are capable of guaranteeing a relaxed evening in a restaurant. I hate the inability to converse when my stuttering attacks my speech. I hate when Bob’s brain injury forbids him from partaking in a simple conversation with his wife. I hate waking up hourly to reposition my frame so I can reduce the cramping, twinges and shots of pain that shoot through my body and fight for my soul. I hate pain! I really hate pain!!

At midday, my cries have lessened but still patiently remain close at hand. The electrical leads placed against my spine are proof to the extremes I will take to prevent pain from ruling my life. The two remotes are attached to all clothing I attempt to wear. (I now use a Thirty-One wallet and attach it through my belt loops or use the pouch of hoodies to hold these twin remotes surgically attached to my body.) The sunshine sheds light throughout our home, begging for us to join the living. The unconditional love from our creator and the presence of his Holy Spirit are brought to mind through various Bible studies.

I hate pain though! I hate what it has done to the character of my husband. I hate the limitations it has done to my schedule. I hate the hours of solitude it has blanketed my soul. I hate pain.

Now that I have dressed and appear ready to face the world, I force my hatred into a small compartment of my heart and pray for it to remain hidden as long as possible. I pray for God to remove the pain and be near me when it erupts. I thank Him for the opportunities He has granted me and the loving help that now appear at my side.

I need to go to my surgeon today so a nurse can re-bandage all the paraphernalia residing on my back. The staff has always treated me with respect and dignity as they care for my condition. I was able to get a ride to his office, (driving is off limits while I am on this trial) quickly from a lengthy list of volunteers. I look upon my list of friends and throw myself to the ground in thanksgiving. (The throwing on the ground part is used figuratively, not literally!)

So I hate pain! I will continue to move forward and follow the path God has made for me. I hate pain, but I will help Bob maneuver past his pain and rest upon new adventures. I hate pain, but I feel blessed to have people pause to read my blog and ponder at my musings.  I hate pain, but I adore the small faces of my grandchildren and the abounding love from my daughter. (My son-in-law is pretty darn good too!) I hate pain, but I will not let it rule my life for you see dear friends, life is good!

God Uses Chronic Pain to Prove that Life is Good:

     -  He places angels along my path to comfort, encourage and love me. Thanks God! Life is very good!