Renee Goossens – Pain Management & Belonging

Today we are lucky to have so many modalities in therapy to keep us well, with ever more diagnostic methods of discovering and treating maladies.

Whereas even twenty years ago Complementary Therapies were regarded with superstition, illnesses as serious as Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS/ME) were considered to be akin to the myth of Santa Claus, now Complementary is becoming mainstream.  CFS is recognised as a diagnostic label under which a cluster of symptoms can be treated sympathetically and with considerable success.

Probably the easiest thing for us all is to accept a label for a condition we don’t understand, provided it is given to us by a practitioner whom we trust.   We may overdo research on the Internet, not always abiding by the rule of checking out the provenance of the writers, but at least information is available if we look for it systematically and following sensible guidelines.

Contentment and gladness come with acceptance of reality.  My source of contentment comes from the knowledge that although various conditions slow me down, they are being treated by caring doctors. The medicines they prescribe I take faithfully and regularly AHEAD OF THE PAIN and generally have few really bad days – only each week or so.

It’s unrealistic to take the Pollyanna approach of sunshine and light when your head is over a bowl as your insides empty into it.  On such days, of course you must rest and cannot find comfort in CHANGING THE FOCUS AWAY FROM YOURSELF.  You must look after yourself and get as well as you know how, before you are fit to help others or to go out and about to enjoy the pursuits in which you find delight, distraction, and of course with it, pain relief.

My whole life seems to have lead me towards the writing of a book on Pain Management.  As a child I knew great happiness, then abandonment – comfort  then poverty – extremes often not encountered at a young age – yet look at the many homeless and those in refugee camps and some even born there!

As young as nineteen I was lucky enough to become part of a multi disciplinary therapeutic team caring for families in distress and those with the qualifications to care for them – psychiatrists, psychologists, social workers and general practitioners permitted me, with their help, to study and become their research assistant, giving me a sense of belonging. They taught me the meaning of evidence based medicine, how to learn from experience and how to comfort and appease the suffering of others.

When I compared my early life to that of the families we saw every day, I was immediately aware of my own good fortune.    Observing and learning from the team – I knew my life was meant to be of service to others in some capacity.

I loved it.  Making others happy or happier, or easing their emotional pain is very satisfying and we had a good team. I thrived in it.

The car accident which followed this was another challenge.  However, two years in hospital, in a geriatric ward of 40 beds, my friends became the young nursing staff who, at the end of each shift, would sit by my bed and ask me to take them through the questions for their forthcoming exams.  This taught me the answers too, and thus continued my interest in caring, helping, and finding solutions for others.  At such time my own recovery period could have made me feel helpless, as I was unable to leave the bed, yet such disabilities were completely forgotten and I loved the friendships formed, the trust in me, the emotion of helping young nurses through.  It kept me occupied.

Idleness, it is said, leaves time for The Devil.  Indeed being occupied with my beloved musical training was my other secret. My father had made me part of his world from the age of six, my enjoyment of opera a little later offered me the constant repetition through attendance at rehearsals and performances so that I remembered long passages of recitatives and arias, knew all the plots and themes of some twenty operas into which I could escape during a time which would otherwise have been burdensome and lonely. I didn’t even know the term music therapy.

When I finally left hospital another blow hit me hard.  This is where emotional and physical pain met face on.  Somehow the sheer joy of being reunited with my two year old son whom I had been unable to see all that time due to NHS regulations, gave me the strength to accept that my husband’s love for a young colleague who was expecting his baby was something I was able to accept. CHANGING THE FOCUS WAS THE THEME.  Of course any of us who have known the joys and sorrows of parenthood know instinctively that the child will need us first and foremost. Our own needs come second.

So I had to prove the doctors wrong, I had to learn to walk again and thankfully enjoyed some 14 years free of the need of a wheelchair.  Even now I am lucky enough to be able to walk some hundred yards each day meaning I am able to live in a self care unit.

With a very large feral cat as companion I can never say I live alone.  The joy of having a companion such as he – very demanding and yet sensitive and giving when the need arises, proves the value of having someone else to care for, once again changing the focus from one’s own immediate needs.

My family has grown with the arrival of a gorgeous daughter in law, and she and my son live close by – a mere three streets away.  So I am blessed.

Having decided to become useful in the community, I do little but am much rewarded with friendship, encouragement and a sense of belonging yet again.

How then, could I be other than contented and glad?

Renee Goossens  © 2008