On the (pain) road to nowhere
You and I experience and define pain and fatigue in a unique way. This is just one of them.
“Pain is invisible but fatigue is even more invisible.” the donkey thought. You may think you are not tired and yet you are. But you can’t think you’re not in pain and still have it. Pain makes noise, screams, stamps its feet. Fatigue is silent, hangs around a bit. And when those two come together; pain and fatigue they go on together they are inseparable. Pain screams louder, fatigue thickens.”
From Toon Tellegen in his book: ‘De egel dat ben ik’ (The hedgehog, that is me)
She had an accident with the scooter just over six months ago. That is why she is standing this morning on the crosstrainer next to me. My exercise programme always starts here. There are two of them in the exercise hall. I hate them both. And yet my physiotherapy training program dictates the full 15 minutes. After 5 minutes my left foot starts to tingle as if someone is pricking with hundreds of needles. Obviously how hard I try, I don’t move an inch forward! I rather go for a brisk walk. To pass the time I always put on my music device. When her physiotherapist walks away I can feel she looks at me. With one hand I take my headset out of my ear and ask what is going on. Without answering she turns her head towards the display. I see that the display on her crosstrainer is not working.
‘How long do you have to go?’ I ask.
‘I don’t know.’ she answers back while trying desperately to get into the rhythm of movement.
Quickly we calculate that she started about 5 minutes earlier than me. Her worried face turns into a smile. Wearing a worn out black training outfit with white sneakers I assume she must be around 18 years old. Her long, blond hair is tight into a knot.
By now I know nobody is here for the fun
Everybody in that hall has to undertake their own road to recovery. So I ask about her story. I listen as she explains about the accident that was not her fault. The car driver did not see her when her lights turned green and she pulled up to cross the road. Both her legs were broken and now feel like two sponges. Recovery takes time they told her and she hasn’t got that time.
‘I just want to sleep all day and forget about the pain. But I really don’t want to skip my year at school either. I cannot live without my my friends.’
Then she pauses and looks ahead of her without blinking her eyes. As if the driver is standing in front of us she suddenly raises her voice and shouts out:
‘You were just busy with your phone! I could have been dead because of a stupid phone!!’
For a moment the other patients stop their exercises and look at our direction. With a confused glance she looks at me. Then realization hits in: she shared her thoughts out loud. I hear her giggle nervously. The physiotherapist walks to her and asks if she is ok. I put my ear device back and soon move again in my own training bubble. Because that is what I do. I listen to the journey of other patients and then let them go. I have to otherwise all the sometimes horrific events that led people to be here get under my skin and I forget why I am there.
After a few minutes the physiotherapist leaves. I feel she is looking at me and I turn my head towards her.
‘And?’ I ask.
‘ He said just a little bit longer.’
Puffing we go infinitely further on this road to nowhere.