Smiley or Frowny Face?
Have you ever been in the hospital ER and the nurse asks you to rate your pain on a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the worst pain ever? I hate that question. It’s stupid. Unfortunately that question has been posed to me many more times than I care to remember and I hope I have heard it for the last time. It is all relative you see. If you have never had so much as a splinter in your finger and suddenly you get one, you might say that splinter is a #10 pain. On the other hand if you have had…let’s see….for instance… 3rd degree burns on large portions your body, or given birth to some huge kidney stones, or had your colon blow a hole and fill your body with infection, or broken your pelvis to smithereens, all of which are definitely painful….if those things had happened to you, you might say that a broken leg is a #5 on that scale whereas the splinter person would be screaming #10 #10 #10! Like I say, it is all relative to past experience and doesn’t really give an accurate picture of what the pain level is for a person being asked to rate their pain.
So, last week as I was sitting in the ER for the third time in 2 weeks attempting to pass yet another kidney stone a nurse was once again asking me to rate my pain. They use a chart with those little faces that start out with a smile and end in a big time grimace as it moves up the scale. I tried to give an accurate answer but giving birth to a kidney stone is one of those painful things that takes concentration to endure and being asked a stupid question that makes you lose that concentration just makes matters worse. I quickly thought back on some past experiences with pain and tried to remember how I would have rated those and compare it to this time. I was thinking “why doesn’t she just look at my face and compare my smile or grimace to her little chart? I need to concentrate here so I don’t pull my hair out and writhe around on the floor making loud wailing noises and make a fool of myself.” But wanting to be a good patient and not wanting to mess up on this test I tried very hard to give the right answer.
I actually can’t remember now what rating I gave that kidney stone but it was obviously not high enough as I was ushered back into the hard plastic chairs of the ER waiting room for TWO more hours while folks with smiley faces went first! It wasn’t until I got into one of the back rooms and was asked to pee in a cup and they saw that it looked like tomato juice that I finally got some attention. Shortly after that I had a CAT scan and then soon after a doctor came striding into my room. “You are one tough lady” she said in admiration. “If I had three stones this big in me I would be bawling my head off and laying on the floor.”
If I hadn’t been so bent over in pain and concentrating so hard on NOT bawling and laying on the floor writhing around I would have hugged her! At last, someone who understood and could give me the proper sympathy! It made my eyes tear up just thinking of how wonderful it was to know she realized this pain was #10 pain and I didn’t even have to point that out on the silly chart. She knew! I love that doctor! I wish they had given me a rating chart for doctors and I would have definitely given her a #10 and then we’d be comrades, both of us at the highest level of our expertise.
Well, the kidney stones have been dealt with. A surgery, a stent and yet one more trip to the ER. I think they are gone. I hope they are gone. I pray they are gone. Yet there is a little twitter now and again way down deep that makes me think there might be at least one more just biding it’s time until I am least expecting it and it will demand to be born. May it be a #2 or #3. I can deal with those numbers. Those faces are only slightly frowning. It is the big grimace that scares me.
By the way, now that this episode is past, I am getting lots of advice on how to get rid of kidney stones in two or three easy steps. Just drink a six pack of Classic Coke followed by a bowl of asparagus; or drink as much pure lemon juice (no sugar) as you can force down followed by eating a bunch of parsley; or drink a gallon of orange juice; or various others I can’t quite recall as they were given while I was in my pain-drug induced stupor. I hope whoever it was that called me will call me again so I can write it all down. I promise to follow their instructions to the tee. I will do anything so I don’t have to face a nurse making me choose which smiley or frowny face I am on that stupid scale.
