28 Jul

Today I am in pain – physical pain. I staged a very theatrical fall in at the entrance of a store Saturday in front of an audience – nothing like looking like a tottering old woman in front of a group of visiting shoppers – but then, it was a good thing they were there to help me up. You can imagine what my face looks like after kissing the concrete sidewalk with all the force of my body. Bruised to the extent of being unrecognizable, glasses missing. I am now glad that years ago I learned to type (the old fashioned way) so I can now do my blog without being able to see – my right eye is swollen shut.
As I try to function to some extent I have a lot of time thinking about how lucky I am to have walked away with only minor injuries – nothing broken – only pain. But here I am with all the comforts of a well equipped American home, including central air conditioning. And friends who bring us casseroles (the usual American gift of friendship) and most importantly a caring husband ready to cater to my every need. I have time now to compare my bleeding body parts with all the injuries during my growing up years in the war. People being torn apart by shrapnel to the point where there were no parts left even to bury them – and the endless blood visible on their injured bodies. They had no comforts – not even a piece of clean gauze to bandage their wounds – with bombs falling making helping the injured almost impossible – what a difference – then from now. And yet, even now there are war torn countries where these tragedies are daily occurrences. I can so identify with them since I have lived it.
One of my personal experiences I remember is when my brother broke his leg while we were refugees fleeing the daily bombings. We were lucky to find a military medic who applied a makeshift cast that needed to be removed after it started to develop an infection and a farmer had to remove it with a hammer and chisel, sending my brother into screams of pain. But we were lucky – we survived.
Read it in “The Chocolate Bar”by Agathe von Kampen.


One response to “Pain

  1. Marion Turrell

    July 28, 2014 at 3:01 pm

    When she came home from shopping and ran into the house, I followed her in and then she told me what had happened as she fell. That scared me to death and I could see that she was hurt. I went and got a wash rag and wet it in cold water and put it on her hurts as this was the only thing I could think of. For one thing I hate to see my wife laying there in pain. Went to church on Sunday and because I was alone, my brothers and sisters wanted to know when Agathe was and I told them, one of our best friends said that she would bring some to eat in the evening. This is what I call good church people. Thank you Jesus for your people know how to make other to be welcomed. “Amen”.



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