Nothing prepared me for the intensity of the pain. It hit me like a dummy crash-car into a wall and strangled the life out of me, draining strength from my legs, tummy and chest. God, what is happening?
The pain came at the wrong time. I was on my way to deliver groceries to Uncle Z. A day ago when I checked in on Uncle Z, he said that his son had run away. His 20-year old son had threatened to take all the furniture in their one-room flat except the bed, and said he wanted to move out. Uncle Z had just been discharged from the hospital for another near-death episode as he does not comply with his blood-thinning medication, essential for his condition of having 2 prosthetic heart valves from previous open-chest surgery. His wife, Mdm N, was diagnosed with severe hypertension and dementia last year. Uncle Z said, “Ever since our son left, she cries every day. She sings and cries, sings and cries.”
My friend, D, had agreed to come with me and pray with them. My pain lingered, I tolerated it, but even D could tell I was suffering.
“You okay?”
“Yea,” I said, in between breaths, “This is very unusual, I never have this sort of pain normally. But I got to say, this pain, is definitely worse than the pain of a half-marathon.”
By the time we reached Uncle Z’s home, and sat to chat, I knew the pain was only growing in intensity, but I kept a straight face, and Uncle Z didn’t suspect a thing.
As soon as we left and his door closed, my upper body collapsed in pain. I then realised this was what guys are most afraid of hearing, “D, I think it’s cramps. Crap. I usually never have pain- at all. This is really unusual.”
D had to rush back to work, and so left me. He knew I’d be okay. I knew it too.
Little did I realise that the pain only worsened. By the time D had left, I could hardly walk.
God, I said, you have such a sense of humour. Today’s the first day I don’t feel pain in my fracture site and this is what you replace it with? Okay, like, please talk to me now if there’s something you’re trying to tell me. My ears are peeled.
At once, the words of my physiotherapist, AL, rang in my ears.
That day as she meticulously recorded the events of my injury, she asked, “When did they do the X-ray for you?”
“About 6 weeks post-injury.”
“What? How come they didn’t do it immediately?”
“I guess they weren’t really suspecting it. They said muscle tears can be excruciating, too.”
“What was your pain score at the Emergency department?”
I remembered myself being in so much pain I had to be put on a wheelchair. “I told them 8 out of 10.”
“Really? It was 8/10? You sure? Then how bad was your pain 6 weeks later?”
“Er… 4 out of 10.”
“Yeah right. They won’t do an X-ray 6 weeks post-injury for a pain score of 4/10. It was more like 6/10, wasn’t it.”
“Maybe.”
“Trying to be a hero.”
Trying to be a hero. Yeah.
It was then, in the spasms on my pain, that I suddenly realised that therein lay pride, too. As my menstrual pain escalated progressively, I felt God was showing me what a pain score of 8/10 really was, and what the pain that day should’ve been.
It was 12 out of 10. And I only took 2 tablets of painkillers, refusing the rest.
By the time I had realised this, people at the train station were watching me and giving up their seats for me because I probably looked like I was about to collapse. As soon as I reached the train station near home, I bought Paracetemol, then deliberated about taking it. It’s the freaking wrong time of the month for this sort of pain, I cursed inwardly. My pain score continued to increase, it went beyond 8/10 to 10/10. I could hardly stand anymore, much less walk. So I took the medication. Shortly afterward at home, the pain left. But I was so tired it felt like I had just finished a triathlon.
Today’s pain taught me, that I really do need to surrender, more things than I thought. It taught me, that I have deeper idols to release.
Yesterday, I read that while our idols can be money, possessions, people etc, within us lie deeper idols, such as a sense of security, control or vanity. As I sat at the botanical gardens this week watching swans go by, I suddenly realised that the deepest false god in my life was not anorexia, or sports, or myself, even. It was a sense of needing to be in control. When things at home started to spin out of control years back, Ed became a way to regain that sense of stability; I enjoy cycling and long to learn horseriding because that sense of control on a bike, an animal is incredible; but the scariest revelation I received as I prayed was that, I am single, have been single, largely because…
… it gives me a sense of control. Being in a relationship makes me feel… vulnerable, and out of control. Who’s to say the person doesn’t turn out to be a jerk? I’ve met them before.
What is your deepest idol? Look at the patterns in your life, identify all your false gods, then see if you can find something in common. I did.
These days, I have been praying for God’s mercy, that I will learn these lessons now and not when it’s too late. I pray I learn to let go of self-sufficiency and the importance of a strong spiritual core before I rip my muscle again and cause a recurrent fracture. (The fracture was a non-contact injury- it broke where the muscle was attached too because the muscle tore too forcefully.) I pray I’ll learn to destroy Aphrodite before she destroys me. I pray God’ll help me to trust Him for my life partner and not let me realise this when I’m 45 and dying of loneliness in a mission field.
I have spent the last week by myself. It is our break now, my parents went overseas, my good friends are attached, some getting married, and I was unable to train. Some days were depressing. I had a lot of time to myself, and for one of the first times, wished someone would drive me out on Saturday night with the likes of Coldplay and Beatles on the stereo to Dempsey Hill for waffles and ice-cream.
God has never let me down- every time I prayed for company, like today in delivering groceries, someone always would show up. But I realised, that in the tough moments to bear, only someone who really loves you would go the extra mile for you. I don’t blame D for returning back to work. But I know when I was hobbling home in pain, I really wished someone would call a cab for me, lug me back home, buy Paracetemol for me.
Today’s pain showed me that I have to surrender. I need to learn how to say God, I am weak. I need help. I can’t do this on my own. I have to realise many factors in life cannot be controlled. I cannot control when or how severe my menstrual pain will be (who cares if it’s the wrong time of the month?), I cannot control who will love me and who I will love in return. I have to stop chasing things which give me a sense of control and security, because that pursuit will ultimately end in an uncontrolled manner.
God, not me, controls my life.
And I guess what I’m most relieved to know, is that He who controls our lives is indefinitely loving and kind, righteous and true. So because of that, I can let go, I can say okay, I won’t resist You or love or run away anymore.
Because of that, I can finally say, I’m broken, and my pain score was 10 out of 10.