It’s just after five in the morning and I have been awake for more than an hour with pain that splits my body in two. I’m trying not to weep but I can’t stifle the tears.
I had been making progress, so I thought. I had started attending a new physio who emphasized that recovery was as much psychological as physical. She gave me some uncomplicated exercises to do and encouraged me to take less medication, stay up longer and engage more with people and with life. And I did. And I tried. And I thought I was making great strides – my colour was better, my weight up, my activity increased, my pill consumption down.
And then, literally overnight, the pain came surging back. I woke at 3am Saturday with pain in my hips and buttocks that I didn’t have before, and with my lower back feeling like a poker was buried in it. In a matter of hours the pain levels had gone from a livable with three/four to an uncopable with seven/eight. And the frustrating thing was I couldn’t understand why. I tried to remember if I had done anything differently, if I had over or under exercised but I hadn’t. This enemy had simply attacked me again without forewarning or reason, and I was so disappointed. The pain in the hips has eased now, but my back is worse than ever.
I was going to forgo the surgery for the spinal cord stimulator, both because my new physio counseled against any more procedures and doubted it would help me a whole lot anyway, and because I really don’t want to subject my battered body to more trauma, but I am changing my mind. Pain has made my life miserable. It has left me unsure of what any day is going to bring. It has left me deeply unhappy.
If the spinal cord stimulator doesn’t work, and this new physio regime turns out like the rest, then, as I’ve said so often before, please just let me go.
A profile in yesterday’s New York Times reminded me why I chose a life in the church. It focused on Tim Kaine’s time as a lay missionary in Honduras in 1980, and how that experience has shaped his life and politics. Tim Kaine, in case you didn’t know, is the Democratic candidate for vice president of the United States, and is currently a senator for Virginia.
From an Irish Catholic background, Kaine attended a Jesuit-run high school. After graduating from college with a degree in law, he decided to do voluntary missionary work with the Jesuits in Honduras before deciding what to do with his life.
Central America was a dangerous place in the late 1970s and 80s. Violence and civil war in El Salvador and Nicaragua had spread into neighboring countries. In Honduras, the American backed right-wing dictatorship was at war with Marxists and anyone else who opposed it. Many priests and religious who were considered sympathetic to the insurgents were also targeted by the regime. In 1980, the year Kaine arrived in Central America, Archbishop Oscar Romero was assassinated in El Salvador and later that year three American nuns and a young American aid worker, Jean Donovan, were raped and murdered by El Salvadoran military. To be a foreigner in those countries at that time was to put your life at risk.
Kaine recalls some of the Jesuits he met there and their commitment to the poor. He talks too about the influence on him of liberation theology and how he got to meet Jon Sobrino, one of the fathers of liberation theology. He describes a church for and of the poor, a church that placed social justice at the heart of its message.
Of course, liberation theology fell out of favour during the reigns of John Paul II and Benedict, who regarded it with suspicion, and who appointed bishops that would drive it underfoot. But the life and example of people like Jean Donovan was why I wanted to become a priest.
Tim Kaine’s story reminds me of that difficult yet glorious time, and of all Christians who have served the poor and paid the price throughout the world. Thank God, Pope Francis has placed a new emphasis on the church’s social teaching, a teaching that challenges all Catholics, no matter who and where we are.