The Girl In The Pool

As part of my pain fighting routine, I swim 3 times a week at the Physical Therapy facility I was treated at recently. I now have a gym membership which allows me access to all the equipment they have, including their lovely, warm pool. I have been doing this for about 2 years.

A few months ago, I noticed someone new in the pool. I'd see her once in a while and my only -- admittedly short-sighted and somewhat prejudiced -- thought was that she was obviously an athlete because she was in excellent shape, the kind of shape anyone would be envious of but those of us who've spent our lives as non-athletes can really envy.

Most people in the pool stay to themselves unless in a class or you've simply seen each other far too often not to say hello. By nature, I tend to stay to myself and go about my routine, which takes about 1 1/2 hours. It seemed to me that this girl -- who is probably in her early 30s but that's young to me -- was of a similar mind: keep to yourself, do your thing and leave.

Last week, I arrived just as the arthritis class of about 4 women were leaving. This girl was also in the pool but was in the jets at one end which usually signals the end of your workout. So I expected her to leave soon and to turn off the jets. But she stayed. I started, as I do every workout, by walking up and down the pool -- forwards then backwards 30 times. After about my 5th lap, I glanced up to find this girl half kneeling on the seat by the jets nearly in tears. I couldn't remain silent.

I said, "I can feel the waves of pain coming off you. You're having a bad day, right?"

And she started to cry. Just tears coming down her obviously agonized face.

I added, "I honestly do know how you're feeling."

And she started to tell me her story.

Nothing I had assumed was true. Her body's excellent condition is genetics; she hasn't worked out since 2000 because of a back injury which lead to neck problems which lead to low back problems and on and on and on... with no real relief. She wears a pain patch (I don't know what kind of medicine it is) that she rolled her eyes at and said how much it didn't help. She talked about her doctor and the rest of her pain team, all of whom she likes except the pain doctor himself (on a team with a neurosurgeon, pain psychologist and others). She said he was an ass and didn't hear anything she was saying and she was beyond frustrated.

Sounded like deja vu and I told her some of my own story. We talked as I continued my routine and she lingered in the pool, doing more stretches and floating, as we all do when we're done working out. She told me she's not a talker or a cryer but she'd reached her saturation point that day. As we were alone in the pool for about an hour, we talked and compared notes and commiserated. It is rare that you, as a pain patient, have this kind of opportunity to actually talk to another pain patient. Unless you're in a support group -- and so many of us aren't joiners by nature and our pain makes us even less likely to join -- there is no give and take between people going through the exact same thing, dealing with chronic pain, as we are.

She left the pool before me but I followed a few minutes later. When I got to the locker room, she was showering and I could hear her efforts to just move in the shower. By the time I was dressed, she was drying off and nearly in tears again.

I said, "It hurt to even get dressed, I know."

That's when she turned to me and said, "Thank you for talking to me. I'm usually not a talker but you really helped me today."

I got a little choked up, I admit, because helping people going through the same horror I've been going through for 40 years feels good. I actually find something -- finally -- good in what I've experienced with pain. If I can give one person a little understanding, then that helps me in return, to feel I'm accomplishing something for someone else. It's a great feeling.

I told her, she was welcome and to just remember there really are people out here to understand.

She told me her schedule and I told her mine. I wasn't able to get back to the pool this past week but I'll be there this coming week. If I run into her again, great. If not, I know I gave her a moment of understanding and, sometimes, that's all it takes to lift our burden, at least for a few moments.

The girl in the pool said I helped her but she helped me just as much. I got a kick in the ass for making assumptions about other people but I also got validation in return for my empathy and that is as a better pain pill than most.