I saw someone during my trip to the hospital on Wednesday. Watching her, if only briefly, threw me back into the days that forced me onto a path that I am still traveling eight years later. Today, I'd like to shed some light on that.
I am a regular patient now at the Brian D Allgood Army Community Hospital. From the moment I knew I was coming to Korea, I was aware that I would have to start many of the consistent cares I had come to know and understand deeply all over again. All with fresh faces and ears, who would need to hear the story from the start, as I have told it many times before. That's just the nature of chronic pain. You get used to repeating yourself.
This particular trip was originally intended to get my shoulders seen for the potential development of arthritis due to my sleeping habits, which are also a cause of my chronic pain. However, since I scheduled it a month ago, I have received my household goods, including my bed. It would seem that with my husband and I sharing my bed in particular, my shoulder pain has all but disappeared - a small miracle after dealing with the pain for the last three years or so. Instead, I decided to go to request a referral to see a psychiatrist or at least some sort of counselor for the long-term mental effects that chronic pain tends to have. So, the appointment was still a necessary one, albeit short.
As I walked towards the pharmacy for a refill, I witnessed the slow, painful steps of a young female soldier in her PT uniform. I wasn't sure if it was a knee, hip, or ankle injury, but she was certainly favoring a leg to the point of barely putting pressure on it. At the time, I simply slid past her to get to my own counter to speak to my clerk. As I waited for my prescriptions, I overheard the level of pain she was in and what medications she was being given to keep her off of narcotics, and my heart went out to her.
As my prescriptions were completed, I said my goodbyes and started heading to my car. She had barely made it halfway, even though she left significantly sooner than I had. Her steps were so pain-ridden that I could tell it was fresh, and she probably required crutches or even a wheelchair for the time being.
She shook her head, took a breath, and said, "No, thank you. I've got it."
Stopping, I peeked around her and asked gently, "Could I help you to your car?" Her face was puffy and wet from fresh tears, and her mask was drooping slightly. Her curly hair, still drawn back into the low ponytail required in uniform, had since become rather unruly with sweat. Her dark eyes were an ocean of confusion, pain, and stubbornness.
She shook her head, took a breath, and said, "No, thank you. I've got it." And she kept walking as if I weren't there.
After a brief moment, I collected myself, nodding and continued to my car. With each surefire step I took, I remembered the frightened, pain-ridden nineteen-year-old who had no idea what she had gotten herself into. When I finally made it to my car, it took all I had not to let the tears fall right then and there.
I couldn't imagine having such a devastating injury happen while overseas. I dealt with mine less than eight hundred miles from home, and it was still one of the hardest things I went through in life. There were days that the pain was so unbearable that I didn't want to move. I would refuse to eat. Add that to the sudden realization that my career was over even before it began, and I became discouraged about life, itself.
I find myself wondering what would have happened had my injury happened after I had made it through Initial Enlistment Training. My orders were sending me to Fort Drumm, NY, where I had hoped to start fresh from my life in Tennessee. I wonder if I would have done a year rotation to Korea, as so many enlisted do. What would I have done, had my injury happened while I was on my own in another country?
Going back to that female, I wonder what will become of the injury she sustained. Will she be able to make a full recovery? Or will she forever know the ache that remains after much of the injury, itself, has healed?
Chronic pain is not easy for those who endure it. It is a silent creeper. It could be almost nonexistent in one moment and suddenly enough to knock you senseless another. You could be walking completely normal with absolutely no limp when suddenly your leg gives and you feel the familiar pinch of the irritated muscles trying desperately to correct the false signals given by your nerves.
Today is one day.
Those of you who deal with chronic pain, be it from an old injury or headaches that sprout from nothing or an illness you have no control over, know that you are not alone. Know that it is absolutely okay to ask for help. And know that your life is not defined by your bad days or your flare-ups. If today is bad, know that this, too, shall pass. Live for the good moments. Live for each breath that feels freeing. Live for the love of life and the meaning yours brings to the people around you. Do not let your pain define you.
Today is one day. And if all you can do today is sit up, that is a feat worth celebrating. Don't give up. And until tomorrow, happy reading.
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