What's Mine Is Mine

So here's something strange to think about. I'm going to miss my pain.

The doctors tell me that once I recover from the operation I'll not have the pain I experienced pretty much every day for the last many years. And I'm thinking I'm going to miss it.

Pain, something that tells your mind that your body is having a problem that needs to be attended to. It's nature's wake up call. When it's not there, that's a good thing. It means your body is at peace with your mind.

And yet.

This pain is mine. It belongs to me. It's part of who I am. Without it, will I be someone else? Men who wear beards for years on end only to shave them off one day in a fit of pique are often not recognized by even their closest friends and relatives. I once changed the way I combed my hair and my father didn't recognize me. Will I recognize myself without the pain?

For a large number of the people I know, I am defined by my limp. "Oh you know who I mean, the guy who limps", it's an often used descriptor for me. I may not have much, but I have my limp. And my pride. And a 55" Panasonic plasma big screen TV with Smart Connect features and 3D.

And I have my pain. It's something I own, it belongs to me and I'm allowing someone to take it away from me. She'll be wearing a mask when she does it, like a stagecoach robber in an old Western taking the strongbox at gunpoint. Instead of gold dust the box contains the strength I have used to overcome the pain.

Giving it up will be giving up a lot of who I have been. Will I be a better person without it? I don't know. I just know that for better or worse I won't be the same person.