Compassion Insight #1

This was the hardest to put into words, consequently, it may be lacking impact. It was an epiphany, really. Please understand that I share these personal stories knowing full well that my vocabulary is insufficient to capture my feelings, and perhaps more importantly, the insights were gained during periods of “tenderization.” By sharing this I do not mean to evoke pity. The story I’ll share today occurred more than eighteen months ago and I’m glad to report that I haven’t had any days since that were as bad.

It happened like this: It was a Saturday in September 2006. I had just completed my first series of an intravenous steroid treatment two days earlier, and I suspect that I suffered from a bad combination of side effect, a Friday night interferon shot, and the disease itself. It was a miserable day. There was an indescribable restlessness and overarching discomfort. No matter how I tried, I could not get comfortable or find peace. It was relentless. There is no pill to pop for relief. Life went on in our home – swirling with activity – and visually, I looked fine but I was really suffering. It was as if someone were continuously playing a dissonant chord through the frequency of my being. Most of my skin was hypersensitive, especially my legs. My feet began burning, I don’t know why they felt this way, but they were not literally on fire - I checked.

After 12 hours of this misery, I felt emotionally spent, but that didn’t matter; the discomfort continued. I was so frustrated.

Desperately seeking any form of relief, I went to the backyard and sat on the edge of the pool. I figured that either my feet would be cooled or the pool would be heated! It helped a little and I was grateful for the pool. I sat under the stars and prayed for relief, and just cried because the discomfort was so acute and so relentless. I had been a good sport all day but now I felt as if I were giving the metaphorical "uncle."

I was glad that I was alone because I wasn’t seeking anyone’s pity. It was then that I got the glimpse. It is hard to explain, but I felt as though I was just getting a taste of sorrow in a world that sadly is filled with it. There is such a need for comforters. I bemoaned the fact that I couldn’t or didn’t see this when I was more capable of being of service. My thoughts were on people that are caught under the spigot of sorrow more deeply and for longer than I have known: my mother-in-law since the accident in 1977, my sister-in-law since the accident in 2005, my friend Don who has had challenges since he was wounded in the Korean War. I know my dad is suffering a lot of pain, silently.

We sing it all the time “sorrow that the eye can’t see.” I got a glimpse of this, and a taste of this, and I think it has made me more sensitive to others' pain. I don't mean to imply that my view of the world became pessimistic or dreary, just that I was given to understand that there is much sorrow around us, most of it unseen, and the need for comforters is tremendous.