Are You Afraid of Pain?

William with a "Therapy Dog"

I’ve had more than my share of short-term and long-term pain, both with and without fear.  And speaking from experience, I can say that a significant component of pain is fear.

Fear and Short-term Pain

Of all the short-term pain I’ve experienced, kidney stones were the hardest to endure.

Having stitches put in my belly without anesthetic, or low gauge (thick) IV needs pushed slowly into my arms over and over again, are not a big deal by comparison.

Even colonoscopies done without any anesthesia whatsoever using those old, rigid metal hollow tubes called proctoscopes, don’t hold a candle to kidney stones. My grandmother used to say kidney stones felt a lot like childbirth pain.

But having stitches, getting slowly stabbed with IV needles, and having colonoscopies, were all procedures done to help make me better. And I knew that. There was a reason for it, and though it was painful, I knew it would be over and that it was for a good cause. That’s what a lot of women say about childbirth. The pain is mind-blowing, but most mothers tend to focus on the positive outcome: giving birth to their child.

Suffering the pain of having kidney stones, however, wasn’t for some good cause. It wasn’t going to make me better. Quite the contrary.

When I was a teenager and I had my first kidney stone, I thought the pain was related to my ulcerative colitis so I didn’t take it very seriously. Because I thought it had something to do with my ulcerative colitis, I wasn’t really frightened.  Of course, as the pain became unbearable, I finally asked my mom to take me to the hospital. But because I wasn’t afraid, the pain was entirely physical.

Afterwards, however, the urologist explained to me that kidneys stones could lead to permanent kidney damage. So from then on, whenever I had a kidney stone, the thought, “This thorny thing inside me is ripping my kidney to pieces,” would arise.

I was scared: I didn’t want to end up with just one kidney, like my grandmother. Weighed down by the knowledge of the potential danger of kidney stones, I became afraid, and from then on, every kidney stone experience seemed a lot more painful.

I’ve had colonoscopies done where I anticipated the pain and I was sweating before the exam even started. Much later in life, I had the same colonoscopies, but instead of anticipating the pain, I was focused on the present, not attaching myself to thoughts. Not letting them grow into fear.

When I anticipated the pain, the experience was definitely a great deal worse than when I had the very same exam and I was present, just observing my thoughts and what I was sensing.

While short-term pain is mostly physical, there is still a component of fear. That fear stems from the thought that the cause of the pain will lead to irreversible damage to my body—possibly even death. Either that, or the fear is created by anticipation of similar past experience.

Fear and Long-term Pain

When I was fifteen and had been diagnosed with ulcerative colitis, I never took the disease very seriously—as far as I was concerned, it was just a damned nuisance.

Often during the day, I’d have weakness spells. They came in waves. Like somebody had just pulled a plug in my bottom and life energy was spilling out.

When it happened, no matter where I was—playing table tennis, doing karate, during class, or whatever, I’d taught myself to simply freeze and wait for it to pass. These energy-drain spells only lasted a matter of ten seconds at most, so I didn’t consider them to be a big deal.

I kept these spells to myself. I was worried if I told my dad, I’d end up in the hospital again, and I’d miss out on the cool things in life like my karate or table-tennis, and then I’d have to face catching up with my classwork all over again.

No way was I going to let that happen.

But one day at school, my body betrayed me, and a teacher noticed I looked zombie- pale. He forced me to go see the school nurse. Hours later, I was in the hospital, and after a month there, I was sent to London for my first major operation.

People would ask me how I coped with the pain. I didn’t know what they were talking about. What pain? I just had these annoying waves that got in the way, but I had developed such an efficient way of dealing with it while going about my life, it felt normal.

What others called “pain” was just this thing that happened to me all the time. I simply accepted it and moved on. There was no fear. Nothing could happen to me. Like many kids my age, I thought I was invincible.

I know that had I realized how serious the situation was—had I been afraid—the pain would have been much worse, and I wouldn’t have been able to function in day-to-day life.

How do I know this? Because in 2006, I had my first brush with a major problem (intestinal obstruction) that eventually was diagnosed as cancer and put me on disability, and unlike my experience with ulcerative colitis, this time I was afraid.

There were times that the obstruction was so painful, all I could do was lie on the floor in a fetal position and wait for the pain to subside. I wasn’t a kid anymore—I was responsible for myself and the fact was that if I didn’t do anything, I could die.

All I knew was that I was obstructed and I needed to find a competent surgeon. But the surgeons I was able to find were basically guessing, and that made the situation life-or-death scary. No question: fear amplified the pain.

How to Minimize Pain

Obviously, the assumption here is that you’ve seen a doctor and the cause of the pain is being addressed by a specialist. Typically, however, doctors cannot simply eliminate the source of the problem in a day or even a week.

And sometimes the cure for the pain is in itself painful.

1. Painkillers.

Don’t be a hero. If you doctor recommends painkillers, take them!

2. Don’t attach yourself to thoughts that lead to fear.

I’m not suggesting you try to ignore, or, even worse, resist pain. That’s futile. Pain demands your attention. It’s there to alert you that something is wrong.

Pain is pain. If you’ve done all you can medically to alleviate the physical pain, then what’s left is the element of fear. Fear is triggered by thought.

So how can you not think about pain? Simply let your thoughts be. Don’t chase after them. Don’t resist them and don’t judge them. Accept them the way you would a passing cloud. You will get better with practice.

3. Focused Breathing (for short-term pain).

Breathe through the nose and out the mouth. Stay focused on the continuous, uninterrupted flow of air. Remember: through the nose, out the mouth. Heard it a million times before? Not working for you? Then you’re not doing it right.

There’s no way to be completely focused on breathing and have fear-inducing thoughts at the same time. If you’re identifying with thoughts, that means there are moments where your attention lapsed and you weren’t completely focused on your breathing.

Follow these three steps and pain will just be pain. Nothing more than it ever has to be.