Friday, January 07, 2005
A Definition of Pain
You want to know what really hurts?
I've had a broken nose from the age of three or so. I fell from a ground-floor window while playing with my sister (we were making puppet shows on the top bunk with our toys, sitting on the window sill). I fell on my face in some manner and my dad, being the medical expert he is, decided I didn't need to go to the hospital.
Thanks dad. *grumble*
At the age of seventeen my mother finally decided that I could get it fixed. I wet to a cosmetic surgeon, and we fended off many questions about the wonderful new nose I wanted. Basically, I wanted one that couldn't smell around corners if at all possible, thank you.
So, surgery... the anaesthetist did the incisions, apparently. There was very little bleeding and the whole thing went very smoothly. In fact, there was so little bleeding that the surgeon only put a light wad of packing in each nostril.
Oops.
Turns out I had a minor infection of some sort that they hadn't spotted, and my white blood cell count was very high. This meant my blood didn't clot properly, and I bled... and bled... and bled...
My first memory after going under was waking up and vomiting clotted blood into a metal bowl, then passing out again.
My next memory was waking up surrounded by medical professionals (I was a bit out of it, but it seems like ten or more). Here's what they were doing... see, apart from the incisions, a significant portion of my nasal cartilage was rearranged. These people were pulling out the light packing and putting in a heavier one. Into my sensitive, recently-operated-upon nose. Without anaesthetic. Imagine laying on your back and having a small truck park its back wheel in the middle of your face.
It is possible they gave me some kind of shot, but I believe I simply passed out from the pain.
As such, I think I can safely claim that I have experienced true agony at least once in my life. When my wife is giving birth to out first child, and inevitably screams at me for putting her in that situation, I'll simply reply, "Truck! On my face! Now THAT is pain! So shut up and wait for the epidural."
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