Scales

Yesterday started fabulously – no pain AT ALL, I was moving fine (considering I’m just three weeks post major back surgery) and I even, easily, made it down to the sea wall to capture the sparkly sunbeams on the waves. Yea me and shit.

I had an early, post multi-eye surgeries appointment with my ace (and very handsome) cornea minder, Doc Reza Dana. Paula was driving me in. Naturally, we were jammed up in nasty-ass rush hour traffic but, with a little jogging (from car to MEEI entrance – just one weensy block, mind you) I made it in on time.

That “sprint” of mine? BAD idea. The old spine was barking up a storm by the time I hit Doc Dana’s receptionist’s desk
Ya know that pain scale in doctor’s offices? It’s a useful tool for small children as well as folks who don't speak the same language as the care staff. BUT it’s, seriously now, WAY fucking general, inexpressive and, all in all, wickedly dumbed down.

I believe there needs to be a scale for actual intelligent adults.

Zero: No pain

Two: Oof. Bearable BUT “could ya spare an ibuprofen?”

Four: Semi-quiet barks of “ouchie, ouchie, ouchie. I’m feeling it here. Look mes amis, how ‘bout a Tylenol or three?”

Six: Much louder, repeated barks of OUCH, accompanied by insistent whines for “more drugs please!” 

Eight: A cry of “damn, mothafuckas, I’m unhappy here.” This is generally followed by mega persistent pleas for MORE DRUGS NOW PLEASE!

Ten: Yelling “I’m in some serious, goddamned pain here.” This can generally be heard a block away and is always accompanied by demands for a painkiller cocktail that’d knock a raging rhino on its ass.  

And, as the MGH nurses noticed, just like in Spinal Tap, I go up to eleven 

Eleven is molto forzando, sonic boom-esque screams along with grandly impassioned calls for heroin laced morphine and/or cries of "KILL ME NOW!"

Yeah, I’m a real treat for the nurses and interns. I DID, however, warn them yesterday – “I had BIG back surgery three weeks ago today and I’m feelin’ the big OUCH right now. Please excuse if I’m a raging hellhound from the seventh circle of Dante’s Hell. K?" Every last doc, intern, nurse and receptionist exhibited the most wonderfully awesome patience and care. PLUS, most even laughed at my feeble attempts at humor. DAY-um, I’ve got a brill team of medics!

I feel better this morning (though I did pop a couple of my analgesic Pez) and will spend the day resting up for the follow up appointment this afternoon with my excellent cutter, Doc Coumans. Also too, I'll finally deliver that platter of cookies to the brill, wonderful staff on Lunder 7. They were the best damn post big slice-age team I've had to date (and I've had a shit-ton of dates with MGH/MEEI).