Pain

"It's unbearable," mum said, as her body writhed in the chair from the discomfort and pain. I looked at her, the same helpless but compassionate and frustrated look I give her every time I notice that she is hurting, suffering.

How do I notice? From the muffled groans, from the way she raises her arm above her head, from the way she begins to sweat and close her eyes tightly (and I imagine tightly gritting her teeth). And at times, if I'm in the next room, i notice she's in pain from the sound of pills rattling against the canister.

I took her arm in my hand, and held it, stroked it softly. With every stroke, deep down I send her love, send her compassion. And I imagine, that the pain or whatever monster is causing my dear mum pain is tamed or soothed. Of course, i dream that the monster living inside mum's body can eventually be exorcised so it will soon go away, and hopefully never return...

"Your hand is so warm," mum said. With that, I held onto mum's hand, and our fingers locked. It felt awkward, because the last person I held hands with was my ex, and holding hands has that associated feeling of warmth and intimacy. But honestly, awkwardness disappears in the face of pain and illness.

All that remains, all that matters, is being able to hold mum's hand and knowing that for those few and rare moments, she does not feel so much pain, she does not suffer so much.

All that matters is that the monster is temporarily tamed... and, hopefully, will one day go away.