Pain
15/01/16 05:16
A couple of weeks ago I fell on an icy hillside. When I got up, there was a pain in my leg that stretched from my hip to my knee. I continued with the day’s activities, but the pain seemed to be getting worse. I checked out the basics: no swelling or discoloration, my joints moved in their normal directions, my leg could bear weight. I’m not a doctor, so I couldn’t make an accurate diagnosis, but decided that the injury must be either a pulled muscle or some kind of nerve damage. Things not getting better, I went to my doctor’s office the next morning, had myself checked out and learned that there was no major problem. “Rest, ice, compression and elevation,” recommended the nurse practitioner.
My life and routines weren’t disrupted other than the time I took to go to the doctor’s office. the prescribed pain medication was very inexpensive after my insurance paid its portion. Over the course of the next few days a bruise appeared, which, in a way was reassuring. I really had hurt myself, but it was the kind of hurt that heals. I ended up taking three of the pain pills that I was prescribed.
That’s three out of the fifty pills that are in the bottle. In a week or so I’ll take the remainder down to the sheriff’s office to the medical disposal deposit box.
I know that every patient is different and that it is difficult to judge the need for medication. I also know that the nurse was trying to be appropriately careful to make sure that I didn’t run out of medication in the middle of the night when the pharmacy was closed. But I think a prescription for ten tablets would probably have been more than sufficient for the situation.
We live immersed in a culture that is adverse to pain. We work hard to avoid pain. We try to treat every ache and pain and believe that excessive pain is a problem to be solved.
As a result, there are plenty of people who avoid things that they think might bring them pain. That’s probably a good thing when it comes to basic safety. I’m all in favor of seat belts and bike helmets and life jackets and appropriate gear for whatever sport you choose. I like physical training to learn to avoid twisting when falling. Back injuries are no joke. But we also avoid any sort of discomfort that might come our way.
Pain can be a good thing. It is our body’s way of telling us that something is wrong and that we need to make changes. Sunburn is a reminder of unhealthy exposure. Aching muscles tell us that we need to be reasonable in our exercise routines. Even my pulled muscle in my leg is a reminder to be more careful when walking on ice.
When we get in the habit of avoiding pain, our eyes can be closed to the realities of this world. If an argument with a friend makes us uncomfortable, we avoid the subject in the future. If meeting a homeless person on the street makes us feel guilty, we take a different route in the future. When the news makes us wince, we turn off the television (or channel surf - I confess I’m not much of an expert in television).
Our culture is so averse to pain that we attempt to hide the reality of death. We avoid talking about death and grief and loss. We panic at the prospect of having to consider our own mortality and so create artificial ways to deal with the pain of loss.
We get angry and defensive rather than admitting that we are hurting.
The result is that we miss some of life’s deepest meanings and decrease rather than expand the world of our experience.
Our faith calls us to a different path. The gospels don’t mince words when talking about Jesus weeping at Lazarus’ tomb, or becoming angry in the temple, or suffering pain at his crucifixion. There is no attempt to clean up the messy situations of conflict with religious authorities or frustration at the disciples lack of faith. Jesus becomes tired and over-taxed and ends up seeking off to a lonely place to pray. The best way to deal with pain, it seems, is to experience it.
At the same time we are called to address and alleviate the pain of others where we are able. The compassion of a nurse who writes a prescription for pain medication should not be ignored. That person is giving a professional opinion on what will make life more comfortable and doing what she is able to alleviate discomfort. My instincts to feed hungry people, to offer warmth to those who are cold and shelter to those who are homeless is not a bad thing. It is necessary for us to confront pain at times and to seek solutions that decrease the amount of human suffering.
I’m past the stage of my sore leg waking me in the night with pain. If I sit in just the wrong way or take a look at what is left of the bruise or am careless jumping in and out of the box of my pickup, my body will send me a reminder that I’m not quite fully healed. But with that reminder comes the reminder that I am fully alive. I am still capable of experiencing pain, of knowing the difference between good and bad, pleasure and pain. I can still engage the world without the need to withdraw from pain.
Increasing our awareness of pain doesn’t create more pain. When we strip away our denials and confront the realities of life we can recognize our fear of pain, our fear of death, or fear of change, our fear of letting go of our attachments. We can feel the discomfort of recognizing our human frailty and mortality. Then we are freed to engage the pain and suffering of others and begin to make a difference in this world.
A little pain can make us more aware of the blessings of being alive.
My life and routines weren’t disrupted other than the time I took to go to the doctor’s office. the prescribed pain medication was very inexpensive after my insurance paid its portion. Over the course of the next few days a bruise appeared, which, in a way was reassuring. I really had hurt myself, but it was the kind of hurt that heals. I ended up taking three of the pain pills that I was prescribed.
That’s three out of the fifty pills that are in the bottle. In a week or so I’ll take the remainder down to the sheriff’s office to the medical disposal deposit box.
I know that every patient is different and that it is difficult to judge the need for medication. I also know that the nurse was trying to be appropriately careful to make sure that I didn’t run out of medication in the middle of the night when the pharmacy was closed. But I think a prescription for ten tablets would probably have been more than sufficient for the situation.
We live immersed in a culture that is adverse to pain. We work hard to avoid pain. We try to treat every ache and pain and believe that excessive pain is a problem to be solved.
As a result, there are plenty of people who avoid things that they think might bring them pain. That’s probably a good thing when it comes to basic safety. I’m all in favor of seat belts and bike helmets and life jackets and appropriate gear for whatever sport you choose. I like physical training to learn to avoid twisting when falling. Back injuries are no joke. But we also avoid any sort of discomfort that might come our way.
Pain can be a good thing. It is our body’s way of telling us that something is wrong and that we need to make changes. Sunburn is a reminder of unhealthy exposure. Aching muscles tell us that we need to be reasonable in our exercise routines. Even my pulled muscle in my leg is a reminder to be more careful when walking on ice.
When we get in the habit of avoiding pain, our eyes can be closed to the realities of this world. If an argument with a friend makes us uncomfortable, we avoid the subject in the future. If meeting a homeless person on the street makes us feel guilty, we take a different route in the future. When the news makes us wince, we turn off the television (or channel surf - I confess I’m not much of an expert in television).
Our culture is so averse to pain that we attempt to hide the reality of death. We avoid talking about death and grief and loss. We panic at the prospect of having to consider our own mortality and so create artificial ways to deal with the pain of loss.
We get angry and defensive rather than admitting that we are hurting.
The result is that we miss some of life’s deepest meanings and decrease rather than expand the world of our experience.
Our faith calls us to a different path. The gospels don’t mince words when talking about Jesus weeping at Lazarus’ tomb, or becoming angry in the temple, or suffering pain at his crucifixion. There is no attempt to clean up the messy situations of conflict with religious authorities or frustration at the disciples lack of faith. Jesus becomes tired and over-taxed and ends up seeking off to a lonely place to pray. The best way to deal with pain, it seems, is to experience it.
At the same time we are called to address and alleviate the pain of others where we are able. The compassion of a nurse who writes a prescription for pain medication should not be ignored. That person is giving a professional opinion on what will make life more comfortable and doing what she is able to alleviate discomfort. My instincts to feed hungry people, to offer warmth to those who are cold and shelter to those who are homeless is not a bad thing. It is necessary for us to confront pain at times and to seek solutions that decrease the amount of human suffering.
I’m past the stage of my sore leg waking me in the night with pain. If I sit in just the wrong way or take a look at what is left of the bruise or am careless jumping in and out of the box of my pickup, my body will send me a reminder that I’m not quite fully healed. But with that reminder comes the reminder that I am fully alive. I am still capable of experiencing pain, of knowing the difference between good and bad, pleasure and pain. I can still engage the world without the need to withdraw from pain.
Increasing our awareness of pain doesn’t create more pain. When we strip away our denials and confront the realities of life we can recognize our fear of pain, our fear of death, or fear of change, our fear of letting go of our attachments. We can feel the discomfort of recognizing our human frailty and mortality. Then we are freed to engage the pain and suffering of others and begin to make a difference in this world.
A little pain can make us more aware of the blessings of being alive.