Wednesday, February 10, 2016


When you go to the hospital, the doctors and nurses ask you to evaluate your pain so they can try to understand what you are feeling. There is no "pain-o-meter". So they ask you to express your observations by putting a number on it - "On a scale of one to ten".

Well, I have known some pain in my time - a hysterectomy, an episiotomy with failed anesthetic, a colonoscopy with failed anesthetic. That pain is ten plus. The pain I have had in recent months can be described as 8 to 9. Or, simply this way - It gets to where you don't scream, but sometimes you just sweat. Most of the time it is less than that.

My father used to tell a story about a missionary who comes out of the jungle, staggering and bleeding. The rescue workers ask him what he has experienced. He tells them that the cannibals tied him to a tree and threw arrows at him and they were cooking him in a cauldron of boiling water until he managed to escape into the bush.

The missionary asked him, "Didn't that hurt, my son?" -

"Only when I laughed," he said.

My Pop told wonderful stories. I have needed stories all my life. The movies fed me for decades. Then there came TV. I still watch the old black and white re-runs through the night.

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