Ribs, Recovery, Relinquishing, and Responding: Lessons I am Learning About Chronic Pain

This story began because of an accident in the summer of 2016. Thankfully my ribs are healed, but my spine is degenerating faster than I like, and pain is far more of a daily experience. This story chronicles growth as I learn how to manage my health as I age (although those who know me better than I know myself would say I still need to learn to stop moving furniture by myself). I see many my age still able to ‘do,’ and I wouldn’t be honest if I said I don’t envy them.

I resurrected this story because I notice that there are more things I can’t do. I look fine on the outside, but my body is in chronic pain. I began to think about how I am learning to respond now as I learn to be a septuagenarian.

Ribs (Not the smoked, BBQ kind)

We were in pre-vacation preparation: speaking events, deadlines, counseling appointments, board meetings, and a funeral. Life was pressing.

My method of self-soothing is to grab control of what little there is to actually control when life feels tumultuous, so I turned to cleaning. Caffeinated, I pulled my supplies together and attacked the first room. I systematically swept, creating small piles of dust to go back and collect. On my way down the stairs to fetch the dustpan, while James Taylor was singing Handy Man, my foot met half step/half space. Multiple gyrations to overcompensate accomplished nothing. My legs shot into the air and gravity took over. My back side slammed down, hitting the stairs.

My husband heard this thumping sound and leapt into action. John’s highly attuned reaction (having honed this skill set as a grandparent who must intuit the second before a grandchild finds scissors and runs away with them) allowed him to travel the short distance from our bedroom to the living room in Olympic record qualifying time. He found me on the floor trying to breathe. Although my limbs and neck were ok, every breath I took caused pain. We decided a trip to the ER was our next move.

Recovery

My waiting time at the ER wasn’t long, and a quick exam and an x-ray revealed several broken ribs. Every nurse during this ER trip offered drugs for pain relief. I accepted the pharmaceutical help—but soon discovered that even heavy-duty drugs don’t alleviate the pain of broken ribs. Because I was already being treated for bronchitis, my treatment included a breathing apparatus for the next few days and rest for 6-8 weeks. No heavy lifting. This included grandchildren.

Eight painful days later, while turning in my bed, I rolled over and heard a snap followed quickly by my own groaning—another broken rib. Back to Start. Do NOT collect $200. Screaming pain into my pillow for hours. I lay in my recliner, hugging a heating pad, and calling out Jesus when it hurt—because He understands pain. I know his ribs cried out in pain on the cross.

Recovery meant yielding to verbs foreign to me, such as waiting, sleeping, resting, not ‘doing.’ None of these were in my vocabulary!

Recovery did NOT include crying: broken ribs don’t like sobbing or heaving. Recovery meant allowing a recliner to be my primary place of residence for a week or so and accepting fear as my emotion as I approached stairs. Recovery meant letting my husband bring me a drink of water and letting others bless me with their care (when I am the one who usually dispenses the care). Recovery meant future plans were put on hold...and calendar appointments became “maybe.”

Recovery was not my idea of fun.

Relinquishing

I am not on familiar terms with relinquishing; however, this was the next class I was enrolled in. Lessons included humility, acceptance of limitations, learning to yield my plans for the next eight weeks to God’s plan for me to be still. A Boomer such as myself identifies by things I can do—not things I can’t do. However, housekeeping, moving furniture, cleaning out closets, grocery shopping, running errands, and gardening were not in this syllabus.

To relinquish means to abandon something, to let go, or surrender. Who does that without a fight? God is in the business of engaging us till our hips (or ribs) give out and we ultimately utter a ‘Jacob-similar Uncle.’ (“I won’t let go until you bless me” Gen. 32:26.)

While concentrating on relinquishing, a welt appeared on my shoulder and neck. It was now week eight of my journey. I had been carefully planting perennials in the holes my husband dug in our garden, and I surmised that this itchy welt must be related to some random plant my skin didn’t like. My daughter encouraged me to get it checked out. My unofficial medical senses had an uneasy feeling that folks like me (auto-immune compromised) tend to sprout interesting side diseases: like Shingles. My doctor took one look at me and told me I was right. He also said I should clear my schedule and look at the stress in my life. It was time to stop burning my candle at both ends. (Really? After eight weeks of rest I needed to slow down further?)

Responding

Could God make it any clearer that He wanted me to slow down and find my rest in Him? Could I respond cheerfully by obeying and removing anything extraneous out of my schedule till such a time when my body is better? Am I learning how to be gracious to myself? Can I learn to tolerate being honest with others about my limits?

My ribs still ached (reminding me daily that they were not fully recovered), and I had two more occurrences of shingles. My only choice was to slow down for the remainder of that summer and fall.

I am still working on responding. My body is now 10 years older and more consistently in pain. I am grateful for the prayers of those who know me well when they find out my pain level is high. My spouse, children, and grandchildren are very happy to help a chronic ‘do-er’ with activities I shouldn’t try by myself. I am learning to cry out to Him and seek His wisdom on limits that at times include not being around groups of folks as I wrestle with being an introvert. During the flu season I decline more large groups. However, I have found being home or not active feels harder after a few weeks go by. I regularly need to rest and take medicines earlier when pain is beyond my control.

One day God will remove the earth-bound limits of my body and there will be no more disease, tears, pain, or death. I didn’t really think much about this truth when I was a younger woman; but now this reality comforts me as God will offer me a new body and the ability to enjoy Him forever without my need to accomplish something. I doubt my new body will need to move furniture or carry heavy things. However, I hope my new heavenly abilities include jumping on trampolines and riding roller coasters with the grandchildren, as well as cooking and gardening beauty. Thanks be to God.

Dr. Penny Nelson Freeman is a member of the ServingLeaders team.