Face Paint

                                              Face Paint

What is the face of pain?  It is the stranger in the eyes you used to know, the ones that once looked at you--not through you--the way they do now.  The face of pain is a robber.  It takes away relationships and makes the ease that you once had, the familiarity, something that has to be earned again--something you have to work for--and it does not come easily.  So many become the new easily won friends, pushing you out--every four hours--crushed or whole?  Is it time yet?  Truly, the givers and the caretakers are all that matter now; you are superfluous—gift-wrapping in a world where presents can only be looked at--because no one has the strength to open them.

On a good day, pain waits patiently, yet arrogantly, and sits like an obtrusive houseguest, merely stopping by on its journey to its next destination, or perhaps it might stay just one more night, never asking your permission, but staying just the same. 

Pain—a four-letter word—a signal that something is wrong.  What happens when pain becomes all that is wrong and nothing that is right?  Its force is so strong that it has the ability to change the character of life into the hope of joy in death; those of us who are merely the observers of the pain sufferers are left to “suffer” the fringes of pain’s wrath.  How powerful is this force of life that emanates from our own bodies, and yet is transferable to all those who seek to eliminate it in our midst?  Comfort—the respite of pain.

In the days when those we love fight the pain as their last battleground here on earth, we too must fight to remember that it is our time to become warriors as well.  We may stand by their bedsides and not be recognized.  We may stroke their brows in comfort, and be yelled at to stop because we are bothering them.  It is possible that no matter how hard we try, there may not be a way to alleviate the worst parts of pain, for a moment, until the shot helps—until then, we can only talk softly and say, “It’s ok. The medicine will work in just a few minutes.” We can try to say it in between our tears.  And most of all we can just be there, because even if death is eminent, and you assume that the patient may not be aware that you are there—be aware—hearing is the last thing to go. So Listen—they know.

Therefore, if you think you cannot stand the pain, and you are tired of the strain of watching the face of someone who does not know you—remember you must always be able to know the face in the mirror—the one that God knows.  There is so much life left in dying.