HOW TO DEAL WITH INTOLERABLE PAIN

Five weeks ago I had a total knee replacement. It was a complicated and prolonged procedure because the surgeon had the additional task of correcting a previously flawed procedure, which included the removal of titanium plate and screws which previously supported the thigh bone (femur) which was broken and straightened many years ago, in order to help the knee joint. The surgeon had to correct for a bowleg which was also shortened because of delayed healing from the first procedure. In order to do so he had to cut the bone at just the right angle at the bottom of the femur and the top of the tibia. He had to preserve my knee cap in the process and loosen up some ligaments. The incision was over a foot long and was held together with 60 metal staples.

During the night the spinal anesthetic wore off and the IV and oral pain-relievers were simply not doing the job. I kept asking for more pain medication, but whatever they gave me barely touched the postoperative pain and my leg was up on a machine that kept it moving up and down so I would not get a clot in a leg vein, which might break free and kill me. I was stuck there in the bed on my back unable to move and unable to do anything but feel helpless and tortured. It was like my knee was on fire and I could visualize the inside of my knee, which was ravaged by carpenter's tools, the saw and the drill, and the surgeon's tools, the scalpel and retractors. I could visualize all the raw nerve endings and remembered that bone pain was one of the worst. This was a kind of hell. My leg was on fire and there was no way to put it out. I asked for the patient-controlled analgesia (PCA), a machine where I could dispense the appropriate amount of pain relief, but the nurse told me that it was no longer available.

I could not imagine that a modern hospital would leave me with intolerable and uncontrollable pain, so I realized it was up to me to deal with it. After a while I tried to convince myself that it would soon lessen. I was wrong. It got worse and worse. Is this a sample of what hell would be like? It's the worst pain you could possibly imagine and it never went away. You would suffer like this for all eternity, and that was the price of sin. But hellfire is supposed to come later. What I was dealing with was here and now!

At first I could not do anything but think about my pain and my predicament and that nothing could be done about it. I would simply have to bite the proverbial bullet. How was I going to get through this? I thought about yelling, but I inhibited myself. I was afraid of being thought of as over-reacting, a fate worse than death. I imagined myself jumping out of bed and running down the hall, screaming, but I was afraid of making a scene and being taken away by the men in white jackets. Besides, I felt paralyzed. I could not move. It was like I was pinned down to the bed by a heavy weight. I was stuck there with unimaginable pain. How much longer would this go on?

The next thing I did was grimace with pain like I was being tortured.IWC Portofino Replica Watches I realized I was thinking about unbearable pain without even grimacing. Interestingly, the grimacing brought me a little relief! How did that happen? I scrunched up all the muscles of my face, my eyes shut as tight as can be, my teeth bared and lips stretched wide, my jaw clenched. All that gave me some kinesthetic (muscular) feedback and I was aware that the tightness of my face distracted somewhat from the fiery pain of my knee, the inside of which felt like raw hamburger.

That experience gave me the bright idea that maybe I could find more ways to distract myself from the awfulness which was going on inside my knee. Distract myself! I tried different facial expressions--- agony, horror, fury, despondency. I was like an actor, trying out different facial expressions for my role as torture victim. I thought about being an actor and I thought about being a writer, writing about how to get through an experience of unbearable pain. Then I thought about what I would write about, further distracting myself from my knee. I pulled at my ear, I pushed on my eyes, I pulled my hair, I pinched my thighs, I squeezed my scrotum and each time, for a few seconds, I would be distracted from the fiery furnace of my knee. And writing about it is how this Pearl came to be.