How do you cope with pain?

How do people cope with pain?

My dog Maya hasn’t been feeling good lately. After taking her to the vet for a urine infection (at least what we thought it was) last week and having been prescribed antibiotics Maya still was not feeling better. She was not cheerful, her gum were pale, her stomach bloated and she was just weak. Shawn and I took her to the vet on Saturday. I had to teach that morning until 1pm, then run to the rental propriety to fix the house. It had been one of this weeks full of bills and things to fix: the car wasn’t running properly, the dog was sick, the house needed to be fixed and assignments were due. I checked my phone and had two missed calls from the vet. I called him back and he said, “We have a bad problem, Maya is bleeding internally.” I was shocked and worried. I started sobbing. “She needs to be operated right way to stop the bleeding, but I can’t guarantee she will survive,” the vet continued. “Fuck,” I thought. I said, “please go head and operate on her, do whatever you need to do.” At that point I was trying to be rational, to think straight and not cry, because I knew crying it was just a waste of time in a matter like this. But it was not easy. I put the phone down after the phone call and cried some more. I knew I had to tell Shawn now, who was working on a panel for the house. “How do I get myself to walk outside and find the composure to repeat the same information so painful to hear?” I don’t think I did a “great job.” I walked outside, sobbing, mumbling words and I just said something in the line as, “Maya is going through surgery because she is bleeding and don’t know if she will make it.” At that point I was concerned Shawn would get mad for not making a decision about her surgery together. That was actually going through my mind as I was talking to the vet, but I ignored it. I wanted to act fast. We went inside the house; Shawn took a shower, changed and sat on the bed with Zoe, my other dog. He started crying. He cried and cried for hours and hours. I had never seen him crying so much. That prevented him from crying. Crying people freak me out, I can’t just stand them. I guess I didn’t want to be one of the people I could not stand them. I also felt I needed to be the strongest of the two. Only one can and should cry, let their emotions out.

While waiting for the vet to call us back I started thinking about the way people cope with pain. What do they do? How do they act? How do they occupy the longest 3 hours of their life waiting for life or death? Silence was in the house, the laundry was not running, the TV off, radio off. We did not talk, but sat next to each other, occasionally hugging each other when needed. But it seemed that Shawn had to let those tears run down his blue eyes without interruptions. I on the other hand had to do things. I had to occupy my mind, my hands, my legs. I organized the kitchen, I cleaned the dishes, I folded the laundry, I put away the laundry, I read, I watched TV, anything to get me out of pessimistic thoughts. There were still there but farther away.

When the phone rang Shawn would not pick up the phone. He said, “Gin, the phone is ringing, pick it up,” when he was next to me, meaning that he could have easily picked the phone up. I thought, “Why me?” I had no desire to know, but I also was dying to know. It’s strange. I never felt that way. The vet called. We found out that Maya had a tumor that rupture in her spleen contributing to her bleeding. The tumor had being removed and was sent to the pathologist to determine if it’s benign or malignant. We could not see her until Monday. And Monday is not here yet.

Maya means water in Jordanian.