Why Me at 30?

The crisp and thin white envelope with the curve of letters in blue ink stared back at me.  The sender was my aunt in Hong Kong. 

I stared at the envelope for a few moments, pondering what could be inside. 

I had a particularly close and special relationship with this aunt who was close to 70-years-old and had already endured two hip replacement surgeries and ongoing painful bouts with her spine and neck.  She had always had quite the temper at times, which only propelled her to fight harder than ever.  She was, by far, one of the strongest women I knew who tolerated pain to the highest degree in suffering silence and with simple smile to her painted lips.  Never a complaint spouted from her mouth.  However, since her hip replacement surgeries, she had seemed calmer and there was a golden, liberating aura about her that I wondered if I would possibly gain after my first (and hopefully, my last) hip replacement surgery that is now set for April. 

I had just spoken with her a couple days ago to spout my fuchsia feelings about this upcoming surgery and about people around my age who complained about what I viewed as miniscule mayhem.   Professionally, my same-age peers ‘mayhem” was revolved around worries about receiving time off from our supervisor to travel abroad and supposed dramatic politics with people.  Personally, my same-age peers ‘mayhem’ was the stress of school work.  Honestly, I could not relate to their worries.  They were worried about getting through work and school.  I was worried about my health and body.   I was worried about keeping my sanity and suppressing explosive confused feelings and anxiety at any given moment. 

On the phone to my Hong Kong auntie, I spouted off angrily, “I’m sick and tired of hearing people complain and complain more about petty stuff.  Don't people realize that the most important thing in life is health?  They want problems?  I’ll gladly give them my life on a silver platter of my agonizing decision-making to finally go through with my hip replacement surgery, all the preparation before surgery, all the worries of how the surgery will turn out, all that I need to finish up before my surgery on a personal level.  I finally got fed up with a couple people who were complaining about work and said to them that I can’t care about all the unnecessary drama and pettiness at work or in life anymore when I was worried about my own health.  I told them that nothing was more important than health.  They stared at me and told me now to say this because then I would make them feel bad.  That absolutely infuriated me, because you don’t say that to people.  Let people feel whatever they are feeling and make an effort to listen to them.  I’ve given my time and energy to listen to them complain, so why can’t they give me the same respect…especially when I never complain?” 

My aunt had gained the art of listening after many years of life and health experiences and simply said, “Mary, they just haven’t been through what you have been through.  You have been forced to go through things that other people your age have not had to go through.  You do not have to spend these times with people who always complain or talk about things that you do not find so smart.  You say whatever you need to say, and I will be here to listen to you.”

I steadied my breath, and held the phone even tighter.  I finally said, “I guess people do not know what you are going through until they have gone through it.  I know it is hard to see the people you love the most go through pain, too.  We all go through it.  It means a lot that you just listen to me.” 

My aunt said quietly and easily, “You are so, so brave.  Such a brave and strong girl.”

I blinked back the tears that clouded my eyes.  I eventually hung up the phone with my aunt after talking a little more.  I closed my eyes, but the tears flowed freely down my cheeks.  My head vibrated and swam with thoughts, and the number one thought I had was:

Why me at 30? 

Debilitating osteoarthritis, hip replacements, scoliosis, hip dysplasia, avascular necrosis, hospitals, bed-bounding muscle spasms, chronic pain, my complicated medical history revolved around my kidneys, and all the hospitalizations and surgeries that I had endured were meant for the middle-aged and older.  What was going to happen to me when I was middle-aged when I was already living through what middle-aged people normally went through?

Hadn’t I had my fair share of pain and problems since I was born?  Hadn’t I ‘done my time’?  Hadn’t my family already ‘done their time’ for me as well, for I knew that it was both my family and me living (or rather re-living) the uncertainties and fears all over again with my health and body acting up?  Could I please, please, please just have a brief reprieve from all these big bumps or gaping potholes that continued to pop up in my life’s path? 

My reprieve was supposedly a month from now when I was on the operating table with my cute surgeon for hip replacement surgery rendezvous.  The only catch was that this reprieve from the pain that has been with me for twenty years is not certain and specific.  This reprieve completely out of my control, because, honestly, who knew what will happen and how I would be after I was cut open and implanted with fake materials?

I heard my father in my head saying, “Life hasn’t been fair for you.  It hasn’t been easy for you.  But, don’t ask questions like ‘why’ when there are no answers.  Things just happen, and you do the best you can with grace with all that happens.”

No matter how much I tried to make my father’s voice saying those words louder in my head, I could feel the overwhelming sense of exhaustion, frustration, negativity, and pitying embracing me into a tight and unwanted squeeze.  I could feel that everything with my health was defining and controlling me all over again.  I could feel that defining myself as more than just ‘my health problems’ was getting harder and harder.  I was becoming dangerously and obsessively compulsive about my upcoming surgery and all revolved around my health.  I was scared of who I was turning into, and what was happening to me. 

I did not doubt that I possessed a positive gene in my body, but physically, emotionally, and mentally draining times like this tested that positive gene that I had to work to get back.  It was not easy to be positive when experiences, the mind, and the body twisted you into negativity.  It was not easy to find hope again in all that felt hopeless.  And, it was not easy to locate strength when everything in me and around me seemed embedded with weakness.  But, as my father said, I was more than allowed to feel bad and get frustrated at times because I was only human, and it was only natural. 

My father just warned me, “Don’t drown in anger and negativity that can eat you up alive.  You have to rise above it.  Because, at the end of the day, you still have to deal with all that you must deal with and the only way to deal with everything is with a positive perspective.”

Since talking with my aunt, I had gone into isolation from my co-workers and many of my friends.  At work, I sit solo at the cafeteria and put my hand to work on delayed hand-written letters to my friends from overseas or make phone calls and notes all in relation to my health.  The stress at work for everyone has become almost unbearable due to the extreme imbalanced ratio of too much work and not enough workers.  My stress has increased tenfold from the constant chronic pain that gnaws away at me, leaving me exhausted and truly not wanting to work anymore and feeling as though I am lacking the abilities to fulfill my job tasks as I was able to before. It is already stressful at work, but has worsened for me with the constant physical pain and personal stress of preparing for this surgery.

Personally, I’ve turned extremely selective about who I am sharing my constant painful worries and concerns with about this upcoming hip replacement surgery and especially the aftermath.  I’ve learned the hard way that sharing with the wrong person will just backfire on you and make you feel all the more worse rather than a chance of better.  I’ve heard it all:

            “Oh, don’t worry.  You will be fine.”

            Or

            “At least you aren’t (fill in the blank).”

            Their dismissive passing phrases are often accompanied with a hand wave, empty nod, and then just walking away.  Anger, rather than relief, is increased with the harsh understanding on my part that they truly do not know what I am going through and how I am feeling.  Even worse, they lacked interest or abilities to just be there by my side to maybe just listen, sympathize, and just give me a hug.  I could not blame these people or lash out my anger at them because they just hadn’t experienced what I had experienced.  They didn’t know.  They were doing the best they can with the little living experiences that they had. 

I am thankful for all the people who stay by my side, and support me with reminders that I am not alone in this.  My childhood buddies have firmly planted themselves by my side.  I befriended a new woman in her late 50’s at my gym who battled with cancer in her 30’s.  She has the most comforting voice to soothe, listening capabilities that surpass, and radiating and genuine warmth of understanding.  Another newbie friend is a friend of a friend who is currently juggling a full-time school schedule, part-time work schedule, and taking care of her mother who is suffering from a rare autoimmune disease that is attacking her kidneys.  Her mother’s kidneys are only on 10% function and she goes to dialysis three times a week and then chemotherapy about once or more a month.  Her mother’s life depends on a machines.

Physically, I’ve been more drained out.  Flashbacks of my childhood when I was 10 years old come back at me full throttle when the pain was so intense that I had to be put on crutches and then finally a wheelchair on an as needed basis.  I waver in fear that it has come to a point that I do need a handy dandy wheelchair again as I use to. 

So, yes, when I rehash all that I am feeling and living through mentally, physically, and emotionally up until my surgery, I cannot help but say ask rather bitterly:

Why Me at 30?

            The feel of the envelope stopped me from trying to answer an answerless question.  I slowly shuffled to my couch to open up the envelope from my aunt.  I winced in pain.  Just a couple days ago, I had experienced one of my full throttled muscle spasm bouts.  The best and only way I can describe these muscle spasms is if someone had wrapped and then tightened a lasso that contained electrical currents all around my body.  The muscle spasms leave me bed bound and as though I am being cattle-prodded or tasered alive along with burning and tingling sensations that are sprinkled in as frosting on top of the cupcake.  I was feeling a lot better after following my blessed osteopath’s advice of forcing myself to go to the gym for an Aquatics Arthritis class.  Swimming has always been my saving grace from the pain, but now it has also become a therapist and sanity saver. Due to my history of chronic kidney failure, two kidney transplant, and lifetime immunosuppressant medications, I was limited to take certain pain relievers and had resorted to menthol-scented ointments that made me smell like a senior citizen.  These painful muscle spasms had increased in frequency in the last couple of years, which was a big push for me to finally go through with my hip replacement surgery.

            I slit open the envelope and inside was a lucky red packet with money tucked inside the packet.  There was an apologetic note inside that she had meant to send this lucky Chinese New Year money earlier.  I thought back to what my father had said that the 2013 Year of the Snake was supposed to be a much luckier and better year than 2012 Year of the Dragon.  Luck, I scoffed.  I needed all the luck I could get.

            Trying to subside my blooming bitterness was becoming harder and harder.  I checked the time and saw that it was mid-morning in Hong Kong.  The time difference would permit me to call my auntie and thank her over the phone for thinking of me and giving me a bit of luck and a lot of love. 

            My aunt picked up the phone call right away and we slipped into an interesting conversation about luck and numbers. 

            “Is it true that 2012 was a bad and unlucky year and 2013 is supposed to be better and luckier, according to the Chinese calendar?”

            “Well, in Chinese, 2013 means growing.  There will probably be a lot of growing happen in the face of change and hardships.”

            “So, in regards to what is happening in my life, I am going through ‘growing pains’ with my relationships, people, and what is to come with my surgery and after surgery.  Can I ask you the question of how you knew you were ready for the hip replacement surgery?”

            “It was not easy.  The problem is the mind.  You keep thinking and thinking if it is the right time or wrong time.  You keep thinking that maybe the pain will go away, or maybe you are strong enough to withstand the pain because you are so scared of the surgery and what could happen afterwards.  And, you want to control everything that can’t be controlled, but you learn that there is only so much that you can control and plan in life.  Finally making the decision is a relief, and then you can’t think anymore.  You just have to do.  Then, just when you are about to go in for surgery, you just really stop thinking because you know that your decision is coming true.  You do not need to always understand because there is not always an answer.  You just need to accept and let go.” 

            Accept.  Let Go.

            When my aunt said this to me, a warm feeling of peace began to cover me like a blanket.  The words were simple, but the actions were difficult to fulfill and make happen. 

            I could and would never gain a specific answer the question: Why Me at 30? 

            But I could possibly gain my greatest life experiential tools through ‘acceptance’ and ‘letting go.’  I could say to myself now and forever that I was accepting and letting go, but saying was incomparable to doing.

            Did I have it in me at 30 years old to ‘accept’ and ‘let go’? 

            I was about to learn about making acceptance and letting go a reality this start of the March month, which marked one more month until my hip replacement surgery.