My Inner Ink: Pain
The Tattoos On My Soul: Part 4
I lie on my bed with my eyes closed. I am taking a trip through the corridors of my brain, searching for “pain”. I knock on several doors:
Door #5: “Fall on knee while jump roping on asphalt.” (Just have a scar left from that.)
Door #22: “Fall skiing and hit back on mogul, knocking the wind out of myself.” (One and only time that’s ever happened.)
Door #75: “Severe herniation of disc in lower back” (Pain so intense, I blacked out.)
Door #90: “Childbirth.” (Memory not clear on that, but 2 lovely daughters remain.)
Door #120: “Herniated disc in neck.” (ER Nurse asks if I’ve been abused.)
Door #200: “Slams right index finger in car door.” (Finger tip still numb.)
I am totally confused. I know I was in pain with each injury, but cannot relive the sensation. Funny how that sometimes happens. Yes, we may have some residual aches now and then, but the initial searing pain has somehow vanished from our memories.
Physical pain is meant to be forgotten, but pain happens for our own good. We learn not to touch a hot stove burner, we don’t jump on the bed, and we remember to wear protective gear when we play sports – or rollerblade – or take a pan out of the oven. Some pain teaches a lesson, and some lets us know we are in danger. Pain protects us from harm, yet harm can cause pain. Interesting phenomenon, yes?
My mom once cut off the first joint of a finger, and suffered from “Phantom Pain”. While it was an annoyance that no form of pain reliever could stop, she was fortunate that it dissipated over time. Many amputees, especially those of the “War-Torn” variety, have suffered mental breakdowns from the severity of this form of pain. Poor souls.
But, why am I blogging about pain? I boxed myself into a corner in my initial blog. I committed to writing chapters about the “Tattoos On My Soul”, and simply put, “Pain” followed “Ecstasy”.
I suppose I could now expound on “Psychogenic Pain” – the pain that comes from emotional stress. The pain that makes our throats grow tight and our stomachs ache. The pain that hardens our hearts and screws with our self-worth. The destroyer of lives.
No, I think not.
As for the tattoos on my soul, some pain is hiding there. It rests in tiny black compartments, that I have locked with a key. Forgive and forget. Move on, but take heed. Yes, pain comes in many shapes and sizes, and it HURTS!