Kev was having a bad day. On a bright summer afternoon, he lay curled up on the dark basement couch, holding his stomach.
I was tired. Tired from work. Tired of Kevin’s pain. Losing patience waiting for the right dosage of Botox to work its magic on Kevin’s tired intestines. And yet, I had to rally if I was to help Kevin rally.
I began with a touch. A gentle connection, my hand on Kevin’s shoulder. He cried harder. Time was offered to release emotion. Tears are therapy. Once settled, Kevin told me he was sick and tired of waiting for something to happen – a diagnosis, a medicine, a surgery, a PICC line, an appetite – relief.
Kevin had given away his power to the pulling pain harbored deep in his abdomen. With his power in the hands of the pulling in his stomach, Kevin had resigned control over his life. Giving up power to something or someone else is easy. But when you do, then they get to make choices for you – what you should do, how you should feel, how you should act. Was this what Kevin wanted, I asked, to let the pain in his stomach choose for him what his life was all about? AFter a bout of feeling sorry for himself Kevin decided, “No.” He is more powerful than the pain in his gut. And when he is not, he has reinforcements to bolster his power; doctors, family, friends. The pain in his abdomen had no one.
Score for this round: Kevin 1: Pain 0. Kevin, The Powerful, ruled the day.