A Gift to Be Revered

By Carol Levy, PNN Columnist

I was thinking, “It's Christmas time. I'm supposed to be happy.”

Instead, I am by myself in the parking lot, observing others walking with friends, enjoying each other, and the frivolity of the season. And I am jealous.

I hear the laughter as they walk past me, reveling in the joy of the holiday.  And I am jealous.

I feel the biting cold, as I watch them pull scarves tight around their necks, pulling them up over chins and around their ears. Others tugging on their hats to keep out the cold. And I am jealous.

This is my holiday, alone, unable to enjoy the cold and the fun of the season. My pain has left me mostly housebound. I rarely go out, not a conscious choice, but one the pain made for me. I don't want to go out when I am in pain. I don't want to go out when the pain is quiet because I don’t want to trigger it.

Alone in my house, there is no one to befriend me. I have no family, they abandoned me years ago. Despite all the brain surgeries for my trigeminal neuralgia, they still think I am lazy and a malingerer. Friends I had long ago moved, died or the relationships just ended, as often happens in the normal scheme of things.

My pain is in my face. It doesn't allow me to wear a hat or pull a scarf around my ears and face. Winter and Christmas add to the litany of so many other things the pain has stolen from me.

For many people, parties await and shopping expeditions abound, anticipating the great morning of everyone around a tree, opening gifts and squealing at the wonderfulness of what they received. But they are anathemas to us.

It is not that we hate the excitement, the time spent with others celebrating, the fun of seeing all the decorations and storefronts with their mystical, musical displays. It is that we hate the pain.

It is knowing that if we say yes to the offer of going to a party, walking around the stores or exploring the neighborhood, we are saying yes to the pain. We are agreeing to put ourselves in what, for us, is danger.

And that makes Christmas not so much fun. 

“Attention must be paid,” wrote Arthur Miller in “Death of a Salesman.”  Willy Loman, the main character, was just a regular person.

“Not the finest character that ever lived,” his wife says to his sons. “But he’s a human being, and a terrible thing is happening to him. So attention must be paid.”

We are human beings and pain is the terrible thing that has happened to us. And attention must be paid.

If there is no one else, I and the pain community hear each other. We pay attention. And that is a gift to be revered.

Carol Jay Levy has lived with trigeminal neuralgia, a chronic facial pain disorder, for over 30 years. She is the author of “A Pained Life, A Chronic Pain Journey.”  Carol is the moderator of the Facebook support group “Women in Pain Awareness.” Her blog “The Pained Life” can be found here.