Friday, January 26, 2007

The Pain Scale

“On a scale of one to ten, rate your pain, with ten being the worst pain you’ve ever felt, and one being no pain.”

I hate that question. Over and over while I was in the hospital, nurses asked me this. I never knew what to say. Ten is reserved for childbirth and having my legs crushed by a cement truck, so compared to that, everything is fairly mild. Four? Five maybe? And then when the tests started coming back, the nurse said, “Really? Only four?” And I laughed. “I recently gave birth.”

Pain is all relative. This morning, I was relieved to wake up to less pain. For a moment, I got excited. And then I coughed. Ahhh, there it is. The familiar, stabbing, shooting, burning sensation that has been my companion for the last four days. I’m having a hard time being patient with this pain. Unlike childbirth, it came unexpectedly and brought nothing good with it. I’m tired of sending my kids off with friends and grandmas and aunties. I miss my baby. I miss my hectic schedule and the feeling of importance it gives me. I miss dropping the kids off at school, running to the grocery store, making supper, vacuuming, washing bottles, all of the normal things that make up my typical day. Sleeping in until 8:30 and then lying down again at noon for a nap is not normal.

If I were to rate my contentment at this moment on a scale of one to ten, with ten being completely discontent and one being perfectly content, I’d have to give myself an eight. Not very good, I’m afraid. I’m ready for Pain to move on and Normal to move in.

9 comments:

Craver VII said...

Sleeping in until 8:30 and then lying down again at noon for a nap is not normal??

Oh, and I'm totally with you on the cement truck thing... I can't stand it when my legs get crushed. ;-)

(I sure hope the jesting catches you after the meds, and not just before.)

For now... said...

Normal? You have normal over there?

Llama Momma said...

Okay, I need to stop reading these comments until the pain meds kick in...ouch! Laughter is not always good medicine! ;-)

L.L. Barkat said...

Sounds miserable. So sorry to hear this.

The only good thing about pain is that we really have no physical memory of it. (That's why women agree to go through childbirth again... it's not just for the love of children!)

Llama Momma said...

"(That's why women agree to go through childbirth again... it's not just for the love of children!)"

LL - yes, I've decided that childbirth causes brain damage of some kind. It must, or we would never do it more than once!

So you've really given up plastic? I read your blog this morning, and now all day I've been confronted by my gross consumption of the stuff. Turns out getting rid of it would be quite a project. In any case, I admire your principled stance on environmental issues! (She says as she takes a sip of bottled water...)

clc said...

does any of the "partaking in the sufferings of christ" stuff help? or are you about to throw that water bottle at me.

anyway, i just know that our pain and circumstances are used and redemeed by redeemer god and perhaps he's got some things for you even in this time of seeming ineffeciency. or even in the midst of you longing for your baby is a picture of god's longing for his children to be back at their home again. even though our sin aches him, perhaps our absence aches him more.

sorry, just analyzing out loud. you're alowwed to do this when i'm struck with something.

Llama Momma said...

clc -- you mean, you think GOD has something to do with this? ;-)

Yes. There are always lessons to be learned in the midst of difficulty. Often I don't "get" them until after the fact, though I did spend a painful hour on the phone this morning ASKING people for HELP. Egads! People who know me well know how painful that was...and maybe one of those above-mentioned lessons I'm supposed to learn.

Kingdom Advancer said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Martin Stickland said...

Keep in there!

I am giving you a big smile right now to help you on your way.

Kind Regards

Martin