Day 11: Novocaine
I've been thinking about novocaine lately, because I am overdue for a root canal. If you've ever gotten a filling from a dentist, then you are familiar with the idea of novocaine.
They shoot it into your gumline with a needle, and it numbs the gum. And your tooth. And your face. And sometimes your neck and/or scalp. Your face feels weird and rubbery and tingly afterward, and you can only smile with half of your mouth. But you didn't feel the drill. For a while, you don't feel anything.
Well, you don't feel much. You don't feel what you'd call "pain," anyway. But if you're like me, the numbness isn't a total warm fuzzy void. It's sort of a masking agent, like white noise drowning out the sound of a cat scratching your bedroom door. The scratching is still there, it's just buried. And that's how novocaine works, too. The pain is still there--and the thing causing the pain is still happening--but the chemical effect of the novocaine is preventing your brain from receiving the "pain" signal. Or preventing your nerves from sending it. Or masking it with cellular "white noise." I'm really not sure which, but whatever. My point is, novocaine can't stop the pain; it can only dull your perception of the pain.
Not to go all meta on you or anything, but... this is kind of an important idea. At least, to me it is. So far, life has brought me a fair amount of pain. People I love have died way before their time. People I love have hurt me. I've hurt people I love. Money problems have stalked me like the paparazzi in Miley Cyrus' bushes. Ovens have burned me and knives have sliced me. One time, I cut off part of my finger with an ax while chopping firewood. Another time, all the kids in my grade school laughed at me for being fat and bad at sports. And, of course, I've got this nasty tooth waiting to get its root canaled.
Like everyone, I've been hurt.
And like everyone, I've come up with ways to numb the hurt. For most of my life, cookies did it. Then, when I figured out that mainlining Snickerdoodles wasn't the best way of handling my life, I started shopping online. And ever since I could read, I've been escaping into books, ragequitting life to be in someone else's head for a while.
The problem is that even when you're numb, the pain is still there, underneath. I can rub Orajel all over my gums to get through the night, but I still need that root canal. You can spray chloraseptic in the back of your throat, but you're still going to have strep. You can make a $300 impulse bid on eBay, but he still isn't going to love you. You can gamble all night, and she'll still be dead. And it will still hurt. The numbing agent will fade, and you'll be left, just as raw as ever, scrambling for the next thing that will make the hurt fade into the background.
Leprosy is an interesting disease. You might associate it with Bible times, or third-world countries. It seems scary, right? Bacteria that cause you to lose your extremities. The way leprosy works, though, isn't to gnaw off fingers and toes. What leprosy does is slowly and systematically destroy the body's ability to feel pain.
Have you ever slammed your finger in the door? Yeowch. Purple fingernail, throbbing pain, maybe blood. Now imagine that you slam your finger in the door and feel nothing. There's still blood, there's still the broken and purple fingernail, but you don't even notice. Sounds good, right?
Except that pain is the body's way of telling you something. Pain lets you know there's a problem, that something needs your attention, that something needs to change. The person infected with leprosy might have no idea that their finger is hurt, and might end up slamming it over and over again, until it's broken and crushed and so damaged, it has to be removed.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, pain isn't always a bad thing. Well, ok, it's certainly not good, but it's not something we always have to escape. Sometimes you have to just be in that moment, and feel that pain. Think about why it hurts. Think about what needs to change. Think about what you could do to start healing- not just numbing the symptom, but actually healing the wound.
Or, you know. Make an appointment with the dentist.
Fun fact: Novocaine is, in fact, synthetic cocaine.
They shoot it into your gumline with a needle, and it numbs the gum. And your tooth. And your face. And sometimes your neck and/or scalp. Your face feels weird and rubbery and tingly afterward, and you can only smile with half of your mouth. But you didn't feel the drill. For a while, you don't feel anything.
Well, you don't feel much. You don't feel what you'd call "pain," anyway. But if you're like me, the numbness isn't a total warm fuzzy void. It's sort of a masking agent, like white noise drowning out the sound of a cat scratching your bedroom door. The scratching is still there, it's just buried. And that's how novocaine works, too. The pain is still there--and the thing causing the pain is still happening--but the chemical effect of the novocaine is preventing your brain from receiving the "pain" signal. Or preventing your nerves from sending it. Or masking it with cellular "white noise." I'm really not sure which, but whatever. My point is, novocaine can't stop the pain; it can only dull your perception of the pain.
Not to go all meta on you or anything, but... this is kind of an important idea. At least, to me it is. So far, life has brought me a fair amount of pain. People I love have died way before their time. People I love have hurt me. I've hurt people I love. Money problems have stalked me like the paparazzi in Miley Cyrus' bushes. Ovens have burned me and knives have sliced me. One time, I cut off part of my finger with an ax while chopping firewood. Another time, all the kids in my grade school laughed at me for being fat and bad at sports. And, of course, I've got this nasty tooth waiting to get its root canaled.
Like everyone, I've been hurt.
And like everyone, I've come up with ways to numb the hurt. For most of my life, cookies did it. Then, when I figured out that mainlining Snickerdoodles wasn't the best way of handling my life, I started shopping online. And ever since I could read, I've been escaping into books, ragequitting life to be in someone else's head for a while.
The problem is that even when you're numb, the pain is still there, underneath. I can rub Orajel all over my gums to get through the night, but I still need that root canal. You can spray chloraseptic in the back of your throat, but you're still going to have strep. You can make a $300 impulse bid on eBay, but he still isn't going to love you. You can gamble all night, and she'll still be dead. And it will still hurt. The numbing agent will fade, and you'll be left, just as raw as ever, scrambling for the next thing that will make the hurt fade into the background.
Leprosy is an interesting disease. You might associate it with Bible times, or third-world countries. It seems scary, right? Bacteria that cause you to lose your extremities. The way leprosy works, though, isn't to gnaw off fingers and toes. What leprosy does is slowly and systematically destroy the body's ability to feel pain.
Have you ever slammed your finger in the door? Yeowch. Purple fingernail, throbbing pain, maybe blood. Now imagine that you slam your finger in the door and feel nothing. There's still blood, there's still the broken and purple fingernail, but you don't even notice. Sounds good, right?
Except that pain is the body's way of telling you something. Pain lets you know there's a problem, that something needs your attention, that something needs to change. The person infected with leprosy might have no idea that their finger is hurt, and might end up slamming it over and over again, until it's broken and crushed and so damaged, it has to be removed.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, pain isn't always a bad thing. Well, ok, it's certainly not good, but it's not something we always have to escape. Sometimes you have to just be in that moment, and feel that pain. Think about why it hurts. Think about what needs to change. Think about what you could do to start healing- not just numbing the symptom, but actually healing the wound.
Or, you know. Make an appointment with the dentist.
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