“Pain in life is inevitable but suffering is not. Pain is what the world does to you, suffering is what you do to yourself. Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional.” – first noble truth of Buddhism
This past Friday, I finally decided to have a root canal done. The tooth that has been annoyingly painful for the last six weeks or so had previously had a root canal, about 4-5 years ago. But it was acting up again, and when I mentioned it to my dentist, he took an x-ray and saw a shadowy area that indicated there was still infection. He referred me to a specialist, an endodontist, and she was great. I liked her and trusted her immediately. She was intelligent and caring, listening to my previous dental horror stories and believing me when I told her my mouth was difficult to numb.
I stressed about the procedure, but everything went fine (and nitrous oxide helps a lot for anxiety). What I wasn’t prepared for was the pain afterwards. I guess I’ve blocked out the memory from the last time. The endodontist did warn me I’d likely be in some pain and gave me a prescription, saying she’d done “major work” in there. I went straight to the pharmacy and waited to have it filled. While I waited, the local anesthetic she had given me was wearing off, and the pain became more and more excruciating. It’s hard to think straight when that kind of pain hits. All you can think is “PAIN! Ah, make it STOP! I can’t take it! Why is this happening to me? Is this amount of pain normal? It’s getting WORSE! How much worse is it going to get? Why are they taking so long to fill my prescription? AHHHH!”
Fortunately, one of my wise coaching colleagues reminded me in a message to use this as an opportunity to practice Wordlessness. In Martha Beck‘s latest book, Finding Your Way in a Wild New World, she talks about different paths to Wordlessness, that state where you quiet the constant chatter in your mind. I’ve been practicing Wordlessness for months and can still only keep it quiet for a couple minutes at a time, but the value is incredible. I feel more peaceful and more clear-headed. While it isn’t one of my preferred methods for getting to Wordlessness, Martha does write about the “path of torment,” using those times when we are fatigued, hungry or in pain.
Having nothing to lose, I tried Wordlessness. I was amazed to “listen” to my thoughts in a detached way and then to get to the place where I could just let the pain be and not be IN the pain. This is difficult to describe in words (it’s called “wordlessness” after all!), but I can tell you that it’s easier to just deal with the pain. The escalating thoughts of anxiety and alarm make it worse.
I’m also reminded of my dear great aunt Sudie, who had severe scoliosis that twisted her back and hips. I have slight scoliosis and have experienced the pain it causes, as one side of your back’s muscles are stretched while the other side gets bunched up. But Sudie’s back was visibly distorted, and I can’t imagine the pain she must have been in on a daily basis. Pain often makes us short-tempered with others, and we may lash out at those closest to us. Not Sudie. She was always so loving and sweet, encouraging and patient. She was a model to me that although you may have pain, you don’t have to be one.
So, I was in pain. But I chose not to suffer. I also like to think that this kind of pain is healing, towards a better, new normal. Like washing out scrapes or cuts with clean water and soap, it stings, but you know it will keep out infection and help your body to heal stronger.
But the second night after the procedure, the pain got even worse. On a 1-10 scale, the pain was a 10, and I had to sleep propped up. I took the maximum amount of pain killers and put ice on my face, but I had a couple hours of excruciating pain where sleep just wasn’t possible. A few tears seeped out the corners of my eyes as I meditated, prayed and begged for relief. The next morning, that side of my face was swollen like I had the mumps, distorting my mouth and nose on that side. The swelling went all the way up to just under my eye. A weekend call to the endodontist got me some additional prescriptions, and I feel like the worst is over. Sometimes, pain is a signal that something’s not right. You have to know when to listen to your body and when to call for reinforcements.