C.S.Lewis, in my opinion, is the most influential and articulate Christian apologist of the last fifty years. I respect his mind and his character like few others, even though I disagree with most of his Christian apologetics. I’ve read pretty much everything Lewis has published including the book cover depicted in this post. When Clive addressed the problem of pain in one of his many classic defenses of God, he understood the need to explain how chronic crippling pain could conceivably be part of God’s overall plan for mankind. He knew, at first glance, that once pain had done its job (alert us to the problem at hand) for it to continue unabated seemed cruel and unnecessary. With no redeeming quality, severe chronic pain can continue throughout a person’s life, basically destroying their body and mind, often leading to suicide. Physical pain is something I am fairly well acquainted with. I blew out a disk in my mid-30s. I haven’t had a completely pain free day since. It comes and goes. It’s always there though, lurking, waiting to be further provoked so it can start screaming again. Over the years I’ve had many conversations on the topic of pain tolerance. Most people tell me their pain-tolerance level is high to very high. It’s sort of like Lake Wobegon where all the children are above average. But, truth being what it is, no one can really know what physical pain someone else feels. How could they? So let’s forget the pain tolerance conversation for now. Here is my take on the subject. Here is my scale of pain. When a nurse asks me my pain level at any given moment (during a hospitalization) I give her the following guide – on a scale of one to ten, ten being what it must feel like to be burned alive at the stake, and one being a pin prick, I’m a whatever. I have never been burned alive at the stake so I don’t know what a ten feels like. But I’ve suffered through acute pancreatitis and that’s my nine. Blowing out a disk is around a five, and so on. When I scheduled my double hernia surgery months ago, my surgeon wrote me a script for pain-meds. And like a dumbass, I didn’t bother to look at it until I went to fill it, on my way to surgery. The prescription was for 50 Hydrocodone-Acetaminophen 5-325 MG, or in other words 5 MGs of shit that really works and 325 MGs of shit that does not, Tylenol. I was supposed to take 1 to 2 every four hours. Here’s what happened – on night two, at roughly three in the morning I ended up in a fetal position. I got through the night doing deep breathing exercises I learned in Lamaze class with Jane. This was after I ingested 4, not 1 and not 2, but 4 of my so called baby pain meds. If there is a next time that I need surgery I will carefully explain to my Dr. that either A – I am a giant pussy or B – I don’t metabolize pain meds like the average Joe – by the way, wouldn’t it suck to be that guy – you know, the average Joe Guy? I mean seriously folks, Barbie would never be seen with Average Joe - she much prefers the G.I. version, Im guessing?
Posted on: Sat, 17 Jan 2015 07:42:56 +0000