Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Reality Check

I was in Ikano last week fetching the older boy from his art class. There was a petite woman (and I mean veryyy small sized.. in height and width) carrying a baby, with another little girl at her side, a man and another woman. They walked together in  a group, it looked like a usual family outing. I was fiddling around with my bag when the elevator came, and we all walked in. She was ahead of me and that's when I noticed it.

Her hump. Humps, to be exact. An upper hump caused by a thoracic curve. A lower hump caused by a lumbar curve. Such obvious humps. Humps that were so distorted and obvious, I could practically feel her pain.

I had a hump ten years ago pre-surgery. They removed it and until today I have little to no sensation on the surface of that area. You can poke me, tickle me, push me there on that spot. If you do that, I'd feel like you''re attempting to poke me through a piece of wood. Meaning.. it feels like there is a thick barrier between your touch, and my skin.

But my hump was probably only 50% of this lady's hump. I couldn't help but glance. Other people in the lift stared. I'm glad to say I didn't. Having people in school stare at my hump is reason enough for me to never stare at other people's unusualness.

She perched her baby on her waist, at the hip-joint, just like any mummy would do. She chattered on with her lady friend. Her husband was messaging someone on his mobile. Her kids were beautiful, smiley and bright. She didn't give one hoot to the staring eyes.

I felt humbled, and ashamed.

Tonight my upper back hurts. It is sore, stiff and throbs a dull rhythm on my brain, telling me to do something for the pain. Husband has set up my inversion table and I'll be doing the inversion right after this. After that I plan to do some Scroth breathing exercises. InsyaAllah I will go to sleep better.

Usually I'd give a sigh or two. I don't sigh or complain to other people, I sigh to myself, in the privacy of my home. Ever since I was 12, I do not remember one day of which the spine has been pain-free. That is 21 years of discomfort. But tonight I do not sigh. I keep thinking about the courageous lady in white, walking like she carries a streak of pride with her throughout the mall, ignoring people's curious eyes. What discomfort and pain she must go through every single day.

To the lady I saw, thank you for making me humble. For making me remember that there are many others who have more pain than me, but live on gracefully anyway.

May God bless you always sister!