What I do With Pain
As a chef, I’m accustomed to dealing with a certain amount of pain due to my work. Being on my feet, handling sharp knives, and high heat, can easily lead to a cut finger here or a burn there. It goes with the territory.
A couple of summers ago, a pain in my lower right abdomen developed. It was tolerable, but persistent. I treated it like every other pain and assumed I could work through it by sheer willpower and focus. But as it grew more acute, my strategy was inadequate and I had to seek medical attention.
It turned out to be a hernia. I asked my doctor what I needed to do and she said the word I didn’t want to hear: surgery.
The pain forced me to address its cause.
My doctor assured me that there was nothing I could do to work through it. The tear was not going to heal on its own and if I wanted to live with the pain, that was my choice, but it was going to get worse and not better.
So I opted for the procedure to repair it.
I was surprised how straightforward it was and I was in and out of the out-patient clinic in a matter of hours.
I was sent home with a prescription for pain medication but I was very reluctant to fill it. I had heard too many horror stories of addiction. I feared that outcome.
Knowing myself and my relationship with pain, I decided I needed a degree of discomfort to act as a governor. If I didn’t feel pain, I’m the type that would get back to work too quickly and likely injure myself further.
My pain became my ally.
Pain is a symptom of something wrong. It serves me as a signal that sends out information for me to respond accordingly. A migraine demands me to pay attention to my head and discern its possible causes. A stab in my foot says there is something in my shoe. Chest pain says get help immediately.
Deeper still, the ache of loneliness says relationships are not supposed to be this way. The stab of death of a loved one says I don’t want it to end this way.
All pain demands relief and therein lies my problem. Without first listening to my pain, I can become more interested in fast relief from it than seeking understanding of what is causing it.
I’m approaching 60 next year. I’ve always been a very physically fit and active person. I love working with my hands and body. The fatigue after a hard day’s work feels right and a reward of its own when I finally sit down. I feel fortunate that I can still do the work I love that requires me to be on my feet all day.
But I’m beginning to feel the pain of aging. My body doesn’t respond like it once did. It certainly doesn’t recover as fast as it used to. It’s trying to tell me something and I need to listen intently. It tells me the pain of growing older is normal and so are the limitations that come with it. Some pain I will never be able to rid myself of it in a healthy way
There are plenty of external voices to tell me to ignore the pain, get up earlier and work harder. But thinking I can adopt a Just Do It attitude and repeat my same physical performance as I did 10 years ago is unwise.
Constant grinding on the blade will eventually cause me to prematurely wear away the very knife I am trying to sharpen.
