Pain

It is 1.38am and I am awake. There's not anything too unusual about this - I am, after all, the mother of a baby.

What is unusual about this morning is that she is happily snoring next door.

I am awake because I have acute earache. And by acute, I mean toe-curling, pillow-pounding, silent tears streaming earache. And I've now had this pain for over a week. Despite being prescribed a selection of antibiotics and taking a cocktail of painkillers, nothing seems to be able to stop the relentless pounding in my inner left ear.

As a generally well person I've never really had much cause to think about illness or pain. Whenever the odd cold or strained shoulder has entered my life I've gobbled a couple of paracetamol and happily trotted on with my life.

Now I don't profess that my current week-long, non life threatening earache in any way compares to the millions of people currently suffering serious illnesses, but it has given me cause to pause and reflect on their lot. Here are some of my thoughts:

- illness is a lonely thing. Not only can others simply not understand the pain that you're feeling, but, very often, they don't really want to. No matter how well meaning, when someone asks 'How are you?' they don't want a graphic description of the agony that you currently feel. It puts them in an awkward situation: what do they say? What should they say? And so you start minimising what you're feeling saying things like, 'Oh I'm okay. Bit sore. But mustn't grumble.' All of which builds barriers between you and them.

- illness strips you of hope. In my rational, pain-free moments I know that earache is a generally fixable problem. It really won't last forever. But at 3am when the pain overwhelms, dark thoughts so easily creep in. 'What if this is it? What if I never get better? What if the doctor's can't fix it?' And you begin to resent those who apparently have pain-free lives.

- illness really ruins good theology. The moment I'm in pain I start to question whether God really loves me. 'Why would he let this happen? Aren't I a good person? Is he punishing me? Why doesn't he cure me?'. I no longer want to debate the now and not yet of the Kingdom, I just want to get better.  End of.

- it's hard to be a nice person when you're ill. I have lost my temper so often in the past week simply because I am in so much pain. Grappling to put on my toddler's shoes isn't just irritating, it's agony. And so I snap and verbally lash out and then feel overwhelmed by guilt.

Which is all well and... depressing, frankly. So what now?

To be honest I'm not in the mood to 'learn' anything from my earache. Ending with a cheery, 'And so the lesson of this story is...' would be far too false and take too much effort.

But deep down (in those moments when my pain killers are taking the edge off the throbbing) my hope is that this experience would soften me. Make me more compassionate to those that are ill. I hope that in time I would insist on an honest response to my question of 'How are you?' and then not shy away from the answer.

Essentially I hope that I will learn to 'weep with those who weep' and, in doing so, become in some small way more like the One who is with me in the early hours and who weeps with me.