Pain

 

We are all familiar with pain. In one way or another, we have all felt it. Bumps, bruises, cuts, abrasions... bring with them pain. If you are alive, there is no avoiding pain. Is as simple as that.  

I've had my fair share of physical pain. I’m not really referring to the little cuts and scrapes that happen all the time, I am referring to the larger kind. I broke a bone on my right foot, with a simple misstep, when I was 9 years old. I dislocated my ankles several times, over the years well into my adulthood. I tore both of my rotator cuffs and got surgery to repair the right one, many years after enduring unending pain. 

There are other, non-physical pains that come with life. Pain from the loss of loved ones. Broken hearts, disappointments, and rejections. This could be a more lasting pain. More difficult to deal with. You can take ibuprofen or something similar for the physical pain, but there is really nothing for the emotional pain. I’ve had my share of those, as well. 

You can say I am not stranger to pain in all its lovely versions. That is why I thought I was ready, when we found out we were going to expand our family to three. It should be easy. Bring it on! I am ready! 

If only I had known... nothing in my life had prepared me to deal with the kind of pain you experience when you see your child suffering, physically or otherwise. As my son grew up, I experienced angst and worry with every fever and toothache over the years. But I have never experienced physical pain like I did when, at only 4 months old, they had to do a procedure to open his tear ducts. He was born with an inherited condition where the tear ducts do not open at the end, where they drain into the nose. If they do not open in the first few months after birth, on their own; the doctors have to go in with a very thin, stainless steel rod and punch it open. They have to insert this through the tear duck, NEAR THE EYE, until it pops out inside the nose and they can feel it with another rod, inserted through the nose. 

I decided to be present for this procedure, I figured that not knowing what was going on would be worse. I do not regret the decision, the way my son screamed while they were doing the procedure, I would have knocked the door down to get in the room, had I not already been there. 

They started by swaddling my boy into this Velcro covered felt that was fixed to the bed. They bundled all of him, except his head, which one of the physicians held between his massive hands. A couple of assistants took turns holding my little baby bundle down to the bed and handing the torture devices to the main doctor. As I watched, petrified, from a corner of the room, the doctor proceeded to apply anesthetic drops in my son's eyes. After a little time, he inserted this rod into his tear duct. The long, shiny spear went from my boy’s eye straight into my heart. I had never, in my 29 years on this earth, felt anything like it. When they were finished, they handed me my son who, exhausted, fell sleep in my arms. 

The doctor’s voice came to me through a fog in my mind. He was explaining that the cartilage in the last duct was too thick, but with the other three open there would be no lasting complications. All I could do was say thank you to this galoer, this sadistic human being who had taken pleasure in torturing my little baby. It took more strength than I thought I was capable of to walk out of the chamber with my boy, limp in my hands and smile to my distraught wife, who had decided to sit outside and wait. I assured her he was fine and that it had not been as bad as it sounded. I am not sure if she believed me, but we both took him home and huddled in the couch until he woke up hours later, hungry and ready to move on. 

I’ve experienced that same raw, heart tearing, gut wrenching pain a few more times, over the years. I thought I would get used to it, but it has not happened yet. It was just as bad when they had to insert a foot long needle into the space next to his pinky toe so they could set it straight, after he rammed into a corner wall. I, again, felt the needle go into my heart. There has been emotional pain, more difficult to deal with, over time. At least broken and sprained bones or joints are relatively easy to set and take a short time to heal. Emotional pain is not always visible and healing times are not determined. 

Fatherhood has given me a completely new outlook on my parents, grandparents and other relatives. How many times, have I heard parents pleading with divinity to spare their child from pain? Some go as far as to offer to suffer any illnesses so their children can go on with their lives, in happiness. If only it would be so easy.