Can You Have Pain You Don’t Feel?

I know, it sounds like a dumb question, but Jen assures me there is such a thing. I had asked her this question because I was sitting here sweating with some discomfort that is hard to describe and it dawned on me it might be pain. Jen asked me a couple weeks ago about how my back feels, if not painful. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had some stop-you-in-your-tracks pain over the last month, but mostly, as I described to her, it feels like a marble in the middle of my back that applies pressure when I sit or lie. An irritation or discomfort would be more the descriptor. But I’m not feeling any right now, never-the-less here I sit in my own temperature discomfort bubble of sweat. Conversely, is there joy you can’t or don’t feel? This seems a little more complicated and more about emotional than physical.

It started me thinking about pain people feel and the varying ways it might present itself. Probably at the top of the list is pain from losing someone. All of us have gone through this and if not yet, you will. It’s a pain that is a normal part of life. The best way to remedy this is usually to allow time to soften the pain and allow us to remember the joy that we experienced. Even through the joy of remembrance though, we will always have the numbness of the memory and the sense of loss. Every time something great happens, we want to pick up the phone and call Mom to share the news, then the bittersweetness of our joy is combined with our pain, damping the mood. Years ago, following a surgery Jen had, she would complain of a scar tissue numbness that hurt. I couldn’t understand it at the time, and I thought she might be going off the deep end. Not really, but I certainly thought that she might be on a different plane than I or at least she was experiencing something more complex than my simple mind could attain. That is until lately. Maybe I have finally evolved into a deeper understanding of things.

When I was younger, you either hurt or you didn’t. If you hurt, just rub some dirt on it and all will be well or put some monkey-blood on it. Ah, monkey-blood, the elixir to make all ailments better. Mercurochrome for those more technical. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve discovered things such as pain coming in varying degrees and by how disabling they are being measured in what tasks won’t be completed as a result. If one was to ask me what my daily pain level was like these days, I would say a four to five. It became more an annoyance than a disability, something you force to the back of your mind. A while back, I dropped a cut piece of OSB panel on my big toe. It hurt for a few minutes, I cussed and hopped around and then it stopped hurting. I felt pressure in my shoe, so I cut out a hole in my big toe area to have freedom of movement. This caused major embarrassment for Jen since I would wear it daily no matter who I might run in to or have to visit. Relief for me, painful for Jen until I finally threw them in the trash.

We find it painful to watch movies that are bad, yet we have no real physical association. We cringe with pain when someone suffers an injury, and we avert our eyes or the eyes of young ones to avoid the feeling that will be experienced if witnessed. There are even websites devoted to the amusement of those that find pleasure in someone else’s pain. I think why would anyone do such a thing, then after an hour of watching, cringing, and laughing, I stop watching it. Pain has become a big industry; pain control an even bigger one. Since hurting my back, I have become accustomed to modern medicine relieving my pain to the interval of four times a day. Important enough that I have an alarm sound off every six hours to maintain constant level of numbness. But this time in comparison to twelve years ago is quite different. After my first disk rupture, I was prescribed the highest dosage of Norco and took two every four hours. This time, I take a single pill of the lowest dose of Tramadol every six hours. Due to the opioid problem/crisis in America, the government has cracked down on the medical industry and have put limits on the availability of pain meds. Instead of masking the pain and sleeping all day, we are now supposed to deal with a measure of pain and maintain a level just under the point of debilitation. I get it, and before this injury, I was one of those calling for changes in the administration of opioids. Now I wish they could have waited until mid-2024.

Pain has become the center point of my life. I survive in six hour increments even when really all I’m feeling is discomfort or annoyance. I’m beginning to think my pain might not just be physical and maybe more often is the mental avoidance of it. Sooner or later and with my surgeon having a steady hand, pain might not be something I have to ask silly questions of my wife like, “Can you have pain you don’t feel?”.