On pain and judgment

Years ago, I read an article that described the controversy surrounding aspirin and the relief of pain. The argument went roughly like this:

Pain is from God, especially for women in childbirth, so to alleviate pain is to go against God’s will.

I tried to find that article this morning but my Google-fu let me down. I did find articles that specifically mentioned childbirth, and also the use of pain as a diagnostic tool, but wasn’t able to find the bit about any pain relief being in opposition to God’s will.

I mention all of that because I’ve heard from more than a few people that they don’t ever take anything for pain. You’ve probably met people like that yourself (or maybe you are one)—there’s a sense of pride that the pain is just endured, almost like it’s a virtue to suffer. God knows I’ve done plenty of that myself, no doubt some remnant of my own upbringing.

But the thing is, pain is also exhausting and can interfere with recovery.

Case in point—I had an appendectomy when I was 19. My appendix wasn’t actually where it was supposed to be so I ended up with a seven-inch incision and my small intestine was compromised. Because I hate needles so much and also thought in my twisted way that I was demonstrating some sort of fortitude, I refused all pain relief post-op. I went on to do the same thing with my first C-section, but by the time I had my second C-section, I was tired of being so exhausted after surgery, and also cranky from the pain. So I endured the shots and got some relief.

And another case in point—2006 was a very tough year. I had ongoing, never ending pain after my sixth major abdominal surgery and was put on a pain management system. Since most prescription pain medication makes me incredibly nauseous, I took half the prescribed dose. As you might expect, I didn’t get much relief plus I had horrid nausea. I ended up having my seventh major abdominal surgery in August that year. The surgeon repaired an incisional hernia from all the previous surgeries, and also cleared out what he called a lot of scar tissue. If I’d been clearer about the amount of pain I was in after my sixth surgery, I might have had that seventh surgery sooner. But no, I was being all tough.

I’ve come to realize (finally) that there’s no virtue in enduring something that can be alleviated or relieved. So I am writing this post after having had sinus surgery on Friday and I’m definitely taking the pain meds (along with some strong anti-nausea meds). I want to recover quickly and I want to be able to sleep.

The problem of pain

With apologies to C. S. Lewis regarding the title, this is a slightly different blog entry for me. By the way, he is my favorite author ever; if I could take the collected works of just one author with me into banishment, I’d take his.

A few years ago, I ended up with chronic pain in my abdomen as a result of all the surgery I’ve had. I am apparently a scar tissue growing machine and I’d also developed an incisional hernia from having had six major surgeries. Long story not quite so long, after being on a pain management plan for close to a year, I had a seventh major abdominal surgery to fix that hernia. Post-op, my surgeon told me the reason that surgery took twice as long as he’d anticipated was because he’d removed massive amounts of scar tissue from all parts of my abdomen before he could proceed with the repair.

I’ve had pain off and on since and figure it comes with the territory of being me. Some people get bad joints, others bad backs and I just happen to grow a lot of scar tissue after surgery. Since I’ve had so many, I’ve been able to grow a bumper crop. Last week, I returned to the pre-seventh surgery levels of pain. I’m confident that this pain is from that scar tissue yanking things around inside; I had an unusually physically demanding week in New Jersey doing a lot of movements that require twisting around. Those kinds of movements are no longer kind to me and simply walking was next to impossible.

I’ve been reading the blog of a woman I know from high school; she understands pain from a perspective most of us will hopefully never experience. Returning to that kind of pain last week made me think about something she'd written about pain, how I handle pain, and why I do it that way. Here’s an excerpt from what she wrote:

I started thinking about how poorly in general, society handles people in chronic pain and the glib ways we expect people to deal with it, usually based on our experience with minor or major aches of short duration. There are societally appropriate and inappropriate ways of dealing with pain--1) Silent grimaces or pained smiles are good manners; yelps or verbal expletives are poor manners, 2) Complaining is being whiny, suffering silently is being stoic, 3) Working through (or exercising through) the pain is lauded as admirable; barely functioning (or not functioning at all) is seen as lazy, 4) Taking pain killers for pain means you are morally weak; being proud of not taking pain killers means you are morally strong, and 5) Continuing to have pain and not being able to control it by force of prayer and mind is a sign of poor character; overcoming pain is a sign of good character.

I find that I judge myself most harshly of all when I’m in pain. I feel like I’ve failed to if I admit I’m in pain—even when I’m throwing up because of it. How stupid is that? So most of last week I beat myself up mentally while hurting physically. That is not the kind of woman I want to be.

Now, a week later I am as close to pain free as I ever get these days. The lesson for me is pretty clear: I need to pay attention when things start flaring up and even more, I need to remember that feeling pain isn’t a sign of weakness or moral failing.