Pearls of Pain

In mid-2021, as the pandemic gripped the world with its icy hands, my heart felt even heavier. My octogenarian mother, a vibrant spirit trapped in a frail body, battled multiple ailments, with diabetes and extreme neuropathic pain stealing her sunshine. Each night, I’d listen to her stifled sighs, echoing through the otherwise silent home—a haunting reminder of her suffering.

I double-clicked on my computer, determined to seek help. The online appointments were scarce, barely available amidst the throngs of desperate patients. With a deep breath, I filled out the cumbersome forms, my fingers trembling as they hovered over the “Submit” button. All I could think of was her pain, her endless struggles.

Days turned into a blur of waiting. When I finally secured an appointment with a virtual doctor, known to be of good repute, I felt a glimmer of hope. But the experience was challenging; I found myself disconnected by the sheer clinical nature of the call. “You can't understand her pain,” I wanted to scream. “She’s more than a list of symptoms!” He prescribed medications—painkillers, neuromodulators—predictable solutions that did little to ease her suffering.

Somehow, he agreed for a review after a month. I pestered, what more he could advise. I couldn’t believe, the words that came like a blow, “Nothing more than what I told you last time!” My mother herself tried to gaze at the laptop and find some hope, I knew her eyes were already failing much, and the pandemic hadn’t allowed the surgery. I thought, the doctor, would be empathic, to imagine the best, out of this worst case scenario. She said to me, could she ask herself? I saw the angel was dispassionate, already wanting to terminate the session, still I told him, “Sir, my mother wants to know what else she can do, as the pain is unbearable?”. He had some response already up his medical sleeves, he blurted, “You have to live with it!” The session was ended by his secretary with out any signal.

I felt the limits of medical science closed in around us, a cruel reminder that some battles can’t be fought with prescriptions. Yet, in that dark moment of desperation, I Googled home remedies and alternative therapies. I opened eyes to  holistic approaches, researched soothing techniques, and found warmth in shared stories of those who had weathered similar storms. Together, we discovered relief in small doses—a warm foot bath with sea salt, calming music, and my gentle hand on her aching leg.

Sometimes, relief isn't found in grand gestures but in the quiet moments of connection, love, and resilience. In merely being there, I realized we could break through the limitations of medicine. The journey was far from over, but it was a path we would traverse together, hand in hand. Today, when mother is no more with us, the great fact is she did not die either of COVID or diabetic neuropathy. She sustained  because of pearls of wisdom that her pain had  produced.