This Body Is On Loan To Me

My mom was struggling with pain from Multiple Myeloma. It was attacking her spine, as the cancer will do, and every movement had her in deep pain. As her son, watching her suffer was testing my will and bringing me to understand that there are many things that are out of my control in this world. 

As I sat across from her on her patio, a couple weeks after she was given a two month prognosis, she moved slightly, and with that brief movement, a deep moan came. Her blue eyes looked at me with determination and fierceness, not submitting to the pain but recognizing it she said, “Damn this body of mine.” 

I thought about this statement for a moment as we sat in the summer air. I too was in a great deal of physical pain as I sat across from her. Of course, it was nothing like hers, but nevertheless, it was often intense. I eventually found out the pain was most likely from the immense stress and grief of watching her suffer and her inevitable death that was now upon us. My back ached. My legs had sharp pains running through them. The tightness of my hips made it hard to walk some days. My shoulders were always tense and the tightness went to my neck and hung there, clenching and bringing that tenseness to my jaw. My face and teeth were hurting from clenching my jaw during my sleep. The stress of watching her suffer did not let up. I had to find some rational reason for my pain instead of being angry at it or allowing myself to surrender. So, as I sat across from my mother I offered, “This body is on loan to me.”

“What’s that, hun?” she said.

“This body is on loan to me. To all of us.” She smiled slightly, hearing me talk like this often. Many, if not most of our talks, turned into a philosophical discussion on life and death and all that came with it. 

“Tell me more about that,” she said. I started to notice the last couple of months that she lived, my mom wanted me to tell her stories or talk more. I believe it helped distract her from the pain and her looming death. 

“Well, many people struggle as they age. They struggle when they start to lose their capabilities, get injured, wrinkled, or have pain. Our bodies, like our minds, are meant to change. My body is not the same as it was when I was nineteen, but neither is my mind, and thank goodness for that.” She nodded her head, which I didn’t know if that indicated her being thankful I was not that nineteen year old young man anymore, or that she understood. Probably both. I continued, “The way I see it, this body that I am carrying around is on loan to me for this lifetime. I plan on using it up. It’s carried me on many journeys. I’ve ran trails, climbed mountains, swam in oceans, fallen off surfboards, rode my bike up and down steep, rocky paths, and typed thousands of words making my fingers ache. It took me through obstacles of all kinds, including in the military, and has been intimate with the love of my life. It receives hugs, and holds Karen’s hand. Still, it’s only on loan and will one day fade away. The loan will expire, as I will. I just need to train my mind to deal with my body as it fades and accept whatever comes my way.” 

Our conversation moved into talking about my mom running in the woods and through the red mud fields of Alabama when she was a girl. Memories that made her both smile and shed a tear. 

“I guess my loan is coming to an end,” she said.