Take Me to Wisdom
Hi PCA Family,
It recently dawned on me that I’ve never told the story of how chronic pain coaching came to be from my perspective. I tell this story, not because my story is more important than anyone else’s but because I hope that it will inspire you to think about the meaning of your life’s journey. To know that there is a purpose to all the twists and turns, highs and lows. Many of us who inhabit this world of personal transformation don’t have chronic pain of our own. At least not physically. I’ve often wondered where I fit into the story. I hope that me sharing this will help you understand your place, and why you matter in the grand scheme of things.
As an eager 17 year-old, I took the keys to our Jeep Grand Cherokee and started out on the adventure home. Our family was caravaning home in two separate vehicles from a church event, and there were three routes we could take to get there. One was 90% interstate. The route that everyone traveled. Another was through a steep mountain pass with a sketchy, winding road. Too dangerous, I thought. The third was through the town of Wisdom. We all chose Wisdom. An hour into the trip, we stopped for gas. All mothers seem to know their children better than they know themselves and she could see that I was a little sleepy. I knew she was too, but for some reason, I gave her the keys. “Who do you want to ride with?” She asked. “I’ll ride with dad and Hannah.” I decided.
14 miles shy of the town of Wisdom, my dad gasped as he saw our Jeep Grand Cherokee careening off the road at 70 mph. We quickly rushed over to the scene of the accident. We were not expecting to find anyone alive. My brother was concussed, in shock and very confused. Luckily his side of the vehicle had been spared from significant damage. His window was the only piece of glass on the vehicle that didn’t break. My job was to try to keep him still and I explained to him what had happened, which I did about every two minutes.
Mom was a different story. She was barely hanging on to life. Her side of the vehicle had been completely crushed in. She was having a hard time breathing and we found out later that she had punctured both lungs. Her C4 vertebrae, was completely crushed, which also affected her ability to breathe. My dad coached her through every breath. Then help came. Several members of my dad’s church stopped and helped. A doctor, a nurse, a dentist. All people with medical knowledge were there on site, giving us hope that she would live. Cell phones were a novelty in 2005 and there was no service. These were the days when you had to run to a farmhouse in a case like this. Someone did just that and got the local fire department on their way. Just a short time prior to the accident, someone had made a significant donation to this small fire department in the small town of Wisdom, MT. They had used this donation to acquire an extraction device for just this type of accident. First responders carefully removed her from the wreckage and put her in an ambulance, destined for Butte Montana.
A woman I knew well from church drove me to Butte and as we trailed the ambulance that held my mother, I had the important task of delivering the news to family members. There were many things in this moment that could’ve left me in despair. It was me who gave her the keys and let her drive. Should I feel guilty? Had I caused this? Was she even still alive in the back of this ambulance? These were the thoughts that could’ve easily taken me over. But they never did. Instead, I had an overwhelming feeling that everything would be okay. That she would live. And what I couldn’t know at the time was how this single event would change the world for people who were suffering with chronic pain. I felt calm as I delivered the news to my grandparents, aunts and uncles. It made no sense why I felt this way.
20 years later. She’s not only alive, but is fully aligned with what she is on this planet to do. And the best part is, we’re on this journey together. Many children have a deep inner knowing about what they’re meant to do as a career when they grow up. I never had that. And I know now that I lived with that mystery because my career didn’t exist yet. My mother had to create it first.
Being a pain coach is not an easy career. There are many fields that are simpler. Many that don’t involve being surrounded by people who are stuck in the grip of fear, despair and anger. And there are definitely easier ways to make money. That being said, I wouldn’t trade this journey for anything. When you coach people who are chronically sick, it forces you to take a serious look at your own sicknesses. To regulate your nervous system, still your mind and open your heart.
I’m grateful for those who have gone before me. Who have taken the keys and said “I’ll drive to Wisdom.” Through her courage, I’m on my path to Wisdom. It’s not the route most traveled. It doesn’t have the comforts of conveniences of a large city. It’s a rugged existence. But’s it’s free, and it takes you to the town of Wisdom.
Paul