Bad Knees Blog, take 6: The 10 levels of Pain

disclaimer: The alternate list I've added below is not meant to belittle or disrespect the real pain people experience.

When I last wrote, I was waxing poetic about the miracle of cortisone. I had gone from terrible pain night and day to little to no pain most of the time. Of course, that bliss could not continue; however, I'm a long way from the debilitating pain I had been having. It got me to thinking about the pain scale. When you see a doctor because you're suffering and hurting you get a questionnaire that asks you to rate your pain on a 1 to 10 scale. The thing is, nobody actually explains the scale to you. Every time I fill the form out I think way too hard about what the numbers mean. It wasn't until today that I actually looked it up on line. So now it's crystal clear - right? My reaction is to revert to my old foggy, pseudo interpretation. Here it is: 1 You get a scratch on your hand . You kind of feel it, but you kind of don't. A 1 is hardly worth mentioning.

(alternate) It's that kid sitting in the last row of your class who never responds or even acknowledges that he's in your class. He's annoying but easy enough to ignore. 2 It's there, and if you pay attention, it bugs you, but it's a 2, so you don't let it bother you.

(alternate) It's the girl with the two-tone hair sitting in front of level 1 guy who constantly sniffles, coughs, wipes her nose on her hand, then uses that hand to give you her in-class assignment. 3 Moderate aching, unpleasant throbbing (as opposed to pleasant throbbing). A level 3 pain isn't driving you crazy, but it's not going away either.

(alternate) This is the kid standing outside your office door at this moment talking to his girlfriend on his cell phone. Please stop! 4 This one is hard to call. You have to acknowledge enough pain to justify getting beyond the achy stage but not so much that you're squandering the really good stuff to come.

(alternate) That cell phone kid hangs up on his girlfriend and starts singing along to the rap music he's piping into his red $200 beats. 5 We've reached the halfway point. A 5 is the gateway to significant hurting, but like a 4, there's still a long way to go. You don't want to overdo it, but this is where the break from 1, 2, and 3 is clear.

(alternate) Rap music. 6 You have moments of serious pain, but most of the time you can bear it, and you even forget it a lot of the time. It's getting dicey at night, but you're still able to sleep -- mostly.

(alternate) Any episode of Lawrence Welk.

7 Seven hurts. It nags you all day, makes it hard to get into and out of the car, and pisses your dog off because you aren't doing the mile loop anymore. At night you try ice, heat, Ben Gay, Icy Hot, and tens unit electrical stimulation, and you still can't sleep for more than an hour at a time.

(alternate) I debated about whether this one should be a 7 or 8, but I don't want to make light of pain, so I opted for 7 - Any segment of any episode of Two and a Half Men. 8 Now we're talking. At 8 you find yourself moaning aloud when the pain peaks, and you cry. It's okay. You're aloud to cry, and even if you aren't, you do anyway. Whether it's cutting, piercing, pounding, or however you might experience the pain, it is persistent and severe, and you know you're in trouble. You're not sleeping. You're not focusing at work. You can't eat, and you wonder if it ever will end.

(alternate) Thanksgiving dinner with Uncle George and Aunt Bernice. 9 This is the threshold between pain and agony. I experienced pain spikes that may have touched the edges of 9, but they were fleeting. At 9 the pain is excruciating and relentless, and you are sure it will never stop.

(alternate) Hearing Jerry Lewis sing "You'll Never Walk Alone" for the five hundredth time. Now that is relentless. 10 I can't imagine a ten. It brings to mind Medieval torture, a dentist's drill on open nerves and Zombies eating you one bite at a time.

(alternate) The current Presidential campaign.