Do Not Take My Pain from Me

There is an urge among human beings to deny others their pain.  If I sprain my ankle, someone will quickly advise me to  “be happy it isn’t broken.”  I have seldom found that to be an effective anesthetic.  It still hurts!

At the very foundation of the concept of caring, there lies a principle that feels counter-intuitive.  At least counter to most of our past experiences. 

That principle is this: allow people to feel their pain. 

Don’t deny them this necessary step in healing.

If I lie stricken with influenza, a would-be helper may point out that “there are people dying of cancer who would give anything if it were only the flu.”  Their meaning is: don’t complain!

The message in this kind of help that asks us to compare a lesser injury to a greater one is that you should not feel bad.  Your problem doesn’t count because there are much worse conditions.  So stop crying!

I do not think this method of counseling helps.  The whimpering victim of a broken fingernail already knows this is not a life-threatening injury, so let her vent her frustration.  The limper with the bad ankle knows that he will heal soon, so why not let him lament.  Don’t be in too much of a hurry to stifle them.  (Just because I have stopped crying doesn’t mean my discomfort has ended.  It doesn’t mean that your muffling me has helped.  I stopped mainly because you wanted me to stop.)

There are other ways to remove problems. According to legend, Florida got rid of all its cockroaches — there are no more cockroaches in Florida, not one.  The extermination process was easy and total: they simply re-named the cockroach.  Now it’s a Banana Beetle.  Problem solved!

My dad claimed recently that he has never had a headache.  I was puzzled at this because I recall his complaints about sinus pain which, in my opinion, is a headache.  “Oh, yes,” he admitted, “I did have sinus pain, but never a headache.”  Okaaay, you eliminate headaches by calling them something else.

Many  people act as if they believe that they can create an atmosphere of healing by renaming the “bad stuff”.

Here’s how it happens: A young man named Bert arrives at church on Sunday.  He joins his friends over a cup of coffee after the service.  “I rolled my car last night on Highway 39.  Hit black ice and just lost control.  Totaled it, I’m sure.  And I had less that 10,000 miles on it.” 

To this grim announcement Tom responds, “Okay, but be thankful you’re not hurt.”

Tom's comment totally lacks the empathy that our Care and Kindness Campaign is striving to teach!

(I have more to say about this! Stay tuned for another posting.)