Do you ever get the feeling that you are truly an alien being on a faraway planet? That this consciousness of yours actually belongs to the alien, but your body and experiences belong to a human on earth? You, the alien, have a glimpse through telepathy, a headset, or a wormhole or some shit, at this distant creature's life? Maybe you, the alien, are just playing a virtual reality game, tripping in a hallucinogenic experience, conducting a science experiment, or in an alien prison sentence meant to increase empathy. It feels so real, but the experience really only exists in this headset that is certain to come off before long. It's even a bit sad that this life isn't fully yours, but you do get the unique and beautiful dream of living in an Earth creature's shoes.
So let's say that you feel something within this alien experience. It could be love, happiness, jealousy, anger, or let's say, in this case, pain. Rate that pain on a scale of 1 to 10.
My best estimate as to how many times per day I get asked my pain level is around... gosh, I don't want to get this wrong... let's just say 3 million. I'm sure it's a very useful and practical question for a doctor or nurse to ask. But it raises more follow-up questions than any health professional has time to answer.
First, I assume you're talking about physical pain because I don't see any antidepressants in your candy jar? This is a problem, isn't it? When I hear the screams from the room next door, I get the distinct feeling that it's not all (or even mostly) physical pain. That person needs a friend as much as they need a pill. And I know, I know, there's a time and a place for that lovie dovie nonsense, and maybe it isn't a trauma center.
But you see how easy it is to digress from the question at hand? Let's regroup and discuss the next issue with the old 1 to 10 scale.
Which is a problem with the math. I don't think I've ever felt a 10, so I'm not sure how to calibrate. Hell, maybe I've never felt a 1 either. So as my nurse stares at me puzzled, I find myself doing a complex statistical analysis of all of the pain from my entire life using standard deviations, quartiles, and outliers to determine within one point of accuracy on a ten point scale, my current pain number. Not to mention the fact that I may be a 1 sitting perfectly still, but an 8 in a light breeze. So are we going with a 5 minute average pain level? A local maximum pain value over the domain of the last half hour? Help me doc, my number is going up fast because of algebra!
The last issue with the pain scale, of course, is that the pain doesn't fully belong to me. I'm on so many drugs, I'm not even here. I'm an alien on a distant planet, looking in at this tiny little life. Sure, I can feel all of it, but there's something missing, something even a little sad there too. Somewhere deep in the back of my mind, I know that someday I'll take this headset off.
The week's major happenings:
Sunday September, 19 2021: Fell 35 feet (click for more info). Arrived via helicopter to St Anthony's trauma center in Lakewood, Colorado. Declared alive! But with 12+ breaks including L1 and L2 vertebrae, both heels, right elbow, pelvis, sacrum, ribs, etc.
Too soon, hospital. Too soon.
Tuesday: Successful pelvis surgery. My giant-ass ass screws are sure to set off metal detectors.
Ok, this is more primitive looking than I expected. I think we could have done this surgery with a trip to Home Depot.
Wednesday: I was able to sit up and get into a chair. I developed a rash from sitting in my own sweatiness that night.
Friday: I finally pooped! Five days of blockage culminated in four tiny rock-hard turdlets in a commode. (Side note: I'm claiming rights to “Four Tiny Rock-Hard Turdlets in a Commode” as a nursery rhyme title. Look for it on my next album.)
Saturday: The poop dam was broken and all hell broke loose. Let’s not talk about it.
Sunday: A new fracture found in my knee. Ehh, what’s one more brace?
Stylish, yes. But let’s add an arm sling and a knee brace to finish the look.
Sunday (continued): My insurance company approved a rehab facility and I'll be discharged to an acute PT program at Swedish Hospital in Englewood, CO.
I'd say my pain level is at a 5. Whatever that means.