You Don’t Know My Pain

Lavern Simmons

My aunt’s passing was not expected. She was a very private person and didn’t even tell those closest to her that she had been battling a terminal illness. Minutes after she took her last breath, I stood in her hospital room staring at her. She looked like she was peacefully sleeping, so I told her to get up! There was no way this was happening. I was perplexed and in that moment, unwilling to accept the fact that we would never share another laugh, conversation, or hug. Why didn’t she say how ill she was? Why didn’t she ask for help? Why didn’t she let the family in? I was angry with her. Little did I know, I was about to have an experience that would change my anger to understanding.

I later had a health issue that I thought would improve with a quick trip to my primary physician and a simple prescription. This was not the case. I had a staff infection that would test my faith and my sanity. I’ve never experienced this much pain in my life. The pain was intense, constant, and debilitating. Walking, sitting, and sleeping was painful, I was miserable and depressed. My healing journey was challenging to say the least. Pain medication didn’t help much and I began to believe there was something else wrong with me. I asked family members to accompany me to doctor’s appointments. My husband researched everything from pain management to side effects of pain medication. Coworkers and friends prayed for me and over me. Many observations were made and many lessons were learned during my ordeal. I learned that oftentimes, we can expect too much from others. There were times when I was so depressed and hurting so badly that my own pain and needs were all I could see. I realized that those closest to us may not share our pain but they may be struggling with something that hinders their ability to give us the care and attention we believe we need. I recall someone telling me I should not be in so much pain because I was healing. I was frustrated with their statement because they did not realize what was happening behind the gauze and bandages. Many times we assume that by looking at a person from the outside, we can determine what they are feeling on the inside.

My healing journey also taught me that sometimes, our pain can exhaust people, but that doesn’t diminish the love they have for us. Oftentimes I could see the exhaustion in the eyes of family and friends while they politely asked what they could do to help. I understood that anytime someone had to do anything for me, it was more than likely a sacrifice, and that meant the world to me. At the same time, I hated the feeling of being a burden so I fought through the pain and did as much as I could on my own.

When dealing with pain, you will always run into those who believe your pain will end immediately after they give you the best advice in the world, pray the holiest prayer ever, or consume their miracle potion or concoction. If their attempts to help you don’t immediately yield positive results, then YOU become the problem. It’s YOU that didn’t listen, don’t have faith, or didn’t do something right. Sometimes trying to manage an onslaught of unsolicited advice will discombobulate you quicker than the pain itself.

I rehearsed my mother’s words over and over during my darkest moments…”Baby, nothing stays the same, everything changes, just hold on to God’s unchanging hand.” So, that is what I did. I fought every urge to call my mother and just cry my eyes out. I talked to God, beared down, and faced my storm…knowing that nothing stays the same and that I had always been in the hands of the one who has all power in his hands.

Auntie, now I understand. Rest in peace.