Beyond the pain
I bought my favorite food, and after eating, I started feeling some stomach pains. At first, I didn’t think much of it, after all, it was something I loved eating. But the pain got worse, and soon, I could barely breathe. It was clear that I needed help. I rushed to the nearest clinic, hoping to get some medicine to ease the pain quickly.
When I got there, I met a woman who was clearly dealing with a lot herself. She had suffered a stroke, and her office door was wide open. Her movements were slow, and even talking seemed difficult for her. Seeing her struggle like that broke my heart. This was someone who had spent seven years studying medicine, and yet here she was, suffering with disabilities. I felt deep sympathy for her.
As I waited for her to prescribe my medication, she asked for my name. I told her, and it took her almost 20 seconds to repeat it back to me. Each word seemed to take so much effort, but she kept going. Her hands moved slowly as she wrote down my details, and I could feel the frustration of how long it took.
Finally, she finished writing and handed me the medicine. In that moment, all I felt was gratitude and respect for her. Despite her struggles, she was still there, helping others in any way she could. As I turned to leave, I couldn’t help but say, “God be with you, ma.” She looked at me and said softly, “Thank you, my son.”
Walking out of the clinic, the pain in my stomach didn’t seem as bad anymore. My mind was filled with thoughts of her strength and endurance.
When I got there, I met a woman who was clearly dealing with a lot herself. She had suffered a stroke, and her office door was wide open. Her movements were slow, and even talking seemed difficult for her. Seeing her struggle like that broke my heart. This was someone who had spent seven years studying medicine, and yet here she was, suffering with disabilities. I felt deep sympathy for her.
As I waited for her to prescribe my medication, she asked for my name. I told her, and it took her almost 20 seconds to repeat it back to me. Each word seemed to take so much effort, but she kept going. Her hands moved slowly as she wrote down my details, and I could feel the frustration of how long it took.
Finally, she finished writing and handed me the medicine. In that moment, all I felt was gratitude and respect for her. Despite her struggles, she was still there, helping others in any way she could. As I turned to leave, I couldn’t help but say, “God be with you, ma.” She looked at me and said softly, “Thank you, my son.”
Walking out of the clinic, the pain in my stomach didn’t seem as bad anymore. My mind was filled with thoughts of her strength and endurance.
