congress of fears

dated 19 July 2017, two weeks after breaking my cuboid bone

Every night, when I take my weary body to bed, I check in with my foot to see if it's getting everything it needs to heal. The foot aches, tingles, burns, and sends forth shooting pains to let me know how it feels about the current state of affairs.

Soon, other parts of my body clamor for attention. The right leg tells of the extra load it's been carrying. The muscles -- arm, shoulder, back, abdominal -- involved in crutching me around signal their stress. My low back and thigh muscles complain about the contortions that are required to keep the foot safe and happy.

Before I can sleep, I preside over this congress of sad body parts. I listen to their complaints, massage away little pockets of tension, shift around trying to make everyone comfortable. 

Let go, let go, it's okay.

I had some dental work yesterday, getting two teeth filled without an anesthetic. It was fine, a bit uncomfortable but not really painful. On the way home, my son (who had been numbed for his fillings) and I had a spirited discussion about pain relief medication.

I use pain medication conservatively. I'll get numbed for a crown, but not most ordinary fillings. I used opioids post-appendectomy, but not with most injuries. Drugs can mask pain, but pain is INFORMATION. Pain tells us when something is wrong, and it can help us avoid hurting ourselves further.

My son thought my avoidance of pain meds was moral. I specifically unpacked the issue of dental pain meds for him. I don't like the sensation of being numb. Most minor dental work isn't (in my experience) as painful as the shot in the gums to prevent the pain. I sometimes stay numb for 12 hours or more after the procedure. There's often soreness from the shot that lingers for a few days. With all that, I'd rather experience a little discomfort, and even some outright pain, during the procedure than deal with the aftermath of being numbed.

Lying in bed after that discussion, I smiled at my unorthodox methods of pain management. They go back, I realized, to my preparation for natural childbirth. I read so much about working with the birth energy, letting go of fear, and working with the pain instead of resisting it. I learned how to do it, and now here I am, over 18 years after my last childbirth, managing dental procedures and broken bones with the same tools.

I haven't thought much about childbirth tools in decades. I remember reading Grantly Dick Read's Childbirth Without Fear, trying to incorporate its lessons into my very being. 

The chief lesson was that fear makes pain much more intense. If you can meet the pain directly, without fear, you can handle it. You can experience the pain and learn what it has to teach you. You can ask the pain for its messages and incorporate them in your healing process.