(written 2/5/2009)
Yesterday, I took Cal to have a procedure done; it was outpatient, done in his doctor’s private clinic. It would take about three hours, so I had plenty of reading material, as well as a note book for writing, if the mood struck me. The waiting room was small having 12 chairs ringing around the room. As we enter there was already a few people there, a family six strong and very southern, for I immediately picked up on their beautiful accents. I am a big fan of accents, southern being my favorite.
Cal was soon called in, so I opened up a book and started to read, though it was with a little difficulty. The family with me was having a very good time. One of the women, about 50 or so, was keeping the family laughing so hard that some of them had tears in their eyes. She was reliving past experiences with her father, who was the one they were waiting on and who seemed very much loved by all present. At fist I was a little irritated, but after about 5 minutes of that I decided to change my perception and even though I kept reading I did not fight the talking, which made it much easier for me to continue to read. After a while however I joined in once in awhile and they seemed to like that, for I can pretty much hold my own with anyone I guess. So yes I am a talker, in fact I have been told I am a very big talker. Which must be true, since I have been told that on more than one occasion in varying degrees of either delight or irritation, depends if you like me or not I guess.
They seemed a happy lot. The wife, or mother, surrounded by her extroverted siblings, herself being more on the quiet side, so she of course listened and laughed with all of them. She told me that she is the only quiet one in the family and once in awhile she still gets a tad overwhelmed by their constant horse play when they are together. I told them that I was also from a big family and felt right at home with them.
About 90 minutes after I arrived, another couple came in. The man looked to be in his 40’s and his wife looked about the same age. She was petite and quiet and was soon taken back for her procedure. The man had a cane and walked slowly. He joined in the conversation and was soon sharing with us about his life. It seemed that in the past 5 years, he has had 12 operations on his back, and he was still in a great deal of pain most of the time. He can’t stand very long, although he said that he does try to take a walk every day if he can. The winter is bad for him, for the cold is too much and he is house bound much of the time; so he fights depression as well. He talked about his pain medicines, which he does not take as much as he should, because it makes his depression worse, so he just puts up with it. His brother also has the same problem, though it is not as advanced as his back problems are.
Must be very hard to be a young man in his early forties and not being able to work, along with no hope in the future of being able to help support his wife, who holds down two jobs along with the responsibility of taking care of him. Though I don’t think that is all that much at this time. I could tell he was struggling, but he had a gentle smile and changed the subject himself. I think he has learned from bitter experience that having a chronic condition can turn those having it into bores, since that is all they talk about. Understandable of course, the talking, but it can be too much for others. So he was thoughtful of others, and I am sure that that thoughtfulness was also extended towards his wife.
People often have a great deal of inner strength, in spite of the fact that they are not often aware of it. They just accept life, make hard decisions on how they are going to bear up, and move on with their lives as best they can. Still, chronic pain (?); surely that must really wear one down, and he has had it for five years!
Cal finished about noon and an hour later he was ready to go home. The family that was there before me was still there when I left. It seems that the father was having trouble waking up from his anesthesia, so I hope he was alright.
As I was thinking about the man with the chronic pain, this poem seemed to unfold in my head:
Unknown
I often wonder about pain,
when it becomes ones life,
a haze that settles over everything,
the world experienced as muted,
colors fading to grey,
feeling like a soul trapped in limbo,
or perhaps hell.
Depressed from the pain killers
which can only do so much,
trapped in ones home,
imprisoned in a body ever weakening,
in the winter it can only get worse,
for then both the outer world
and the inner
unite to bear one down.
When young,
with so many years known left to be borne,
can overwhelm
leading to a feeling of being entombed,
perhaps even a longing for death;
yet life often wins out
for those unknown souls
whose courage and faith
remains unknown,
say yes to life
their quiet “yes” a whisper
lifted up to and heard only by God.
Br. Mark Dohle, OCSO
Holy Spirit Monastery
