Pain of the Utmost Quality
posted by Corey
For the past several days, I haven’t been doing much composing or writing. I’ve had a terrible, constant pain under the right side of my rib cage that kept me in bed most of the time. It hurt every time I inhaled, especially when I coughed or sneezed. At last the pain is subsiding and whatever caused it (a pulled muscle? muscle spasm?) must be going away.
People kept asking me what kind of pain I was having. Was it stabbing, throbbing, sharp, dull, burning, etc.? This made me realize that I’ve never been very good at describing pain. My descriptions are always equivocal and rambling:
It’s like pressure on my rib cage whenever I take a breath, but then sometimes it shoots up my back to my shoulder blade, where it feels more like a stabbing pain. There’s definitely throbbing, but not always in relation to my breathing. Maybe in relation to my heartbeat? It’s weird: I think I can feel my heart beating more forcefully than it usually does. Which makes me tense up. Which makes me forget to breathe, so then I suddenly take a deep breath. Which makes the pain a lot worse, kind of like an electric shock, but definitely a dull one.
Am I alone with my inability to translate real pain into described pain?
I cracked a rib at the gym 3 weeks ago. I can inhale deeply again now, but sneezing still hurts and still can’t sleep on that side. Not that a Dr. can do anything about that, but there’s one option of whay my be your problem, too.
Corey replies: I thought about a cracked rib (or bruised rib), but there hasn’t been any trauma, which is why I thought it must be a strained muscle instead. I wish you a quick recovery.
I have read that essay about itching by Atul Gawande. Its haunting.
Are you breathing without pain now?
I’ve been reading What the Body Cost by Jane Blocker. She makes a distinction between mind/body dualism (Descartes) and mind/body integration (Merleau-Ponty).
She writes (p. 27):
“The benefits for body art practices of Merleau-Ponty’s phenomenology are great, since he posits a “living body” that is antithetical to the body as mute object of empirical science. This body is inseparable from its environment which is in continual, profoundly sensitive communication, it is unfixed. Moreover , the bodies-we-are understand the world through myriad constantly changing experiences in which the body is always latent and very often patent. finally he considers the body as a site of dramatization wherein historical conditions and cultural habits are performed.”
Later, with the help of Judith Butler, Luce Irigary and Drew Leder, she critiques or improves Merleau-Ponty’s (and Descartes) dependence on the visual or through the-skin-integration with culture.
“. . . .even though Merleau-Ponty introduces the concept of the “flesh” to his philosophy, “flesh is discussed primarily as that visible skin in which the body itself is sealed and through which it takes in the world.” Drew Leder says: “I am not merely consciousness–this Merleau Ponty argues–but neither am I merely flesh. I am flesh and blood.”
So this brings me to you and your making a song out of your internal experience of feeling pain. (oh, coincidentally, Jane blocker discusses Elaine Scarry in What the Body Cost.) The inspiration of your internal pain and your looking at it/confronting it/trying not to ignore it/integrating with it seems to be aligned with these body theories. A sensitivity to your (our) body both interiorly and exteriorly. Not that you need to be philosophical, because I think the beauty of this particular collection of songs and writing is that it resonates with a body experience that we all relate to physically, and the philosophical implications are the marvelous subtext that work its way to the surface through the “blood” or interior your writing.
So, sorry about the long response, I merely wanted to tell you a background for the profound reverberations your music has made in my listening.
Corey replies: Thanks so much, Bryan. I’m intrigued by the body/mind theories and issues you mention, and I’m already reading a number of philosophical books and essays about health/self, mind/body, etc. But indeed the intellectualism in these writings will probably not be evident in the songs — the songs need to work on a more immediate level. Still, the songs do benefit from my awareness of these philosophical problems.
I really hope you are feeling better by the time you read this comment. I love this blog– although I have just begun to hang out here. It’s wonderful to hear you and to visit in this way since we rarely see each other. I’ll write again after I look and listen some more. It’s so nice to think about this as a place to return to.
Brenda
Corey replies: Brenda, I have so many friends in San Francisco, but I haven’t been there since the summer of 2000. I will get there someday! Meanwhile, I look forward to our interactions on this blog.
I put the Body of Pain on my list now. Thanks for the link. Amazing concept.
One of the profound gifts you provide us in composing music about near death experiences is the theoretical inquiry of the living body. Embodiment is more than the dualistic relationship between mind and body. It is experience, language, technology, race, gender, sexuality, religion, (class, diet and corporate economic intervention which I mentioned above), education, environment, flesh, blood taste, smell, vision, sound, and more and multiple and aggregate. Explain more about what you experience when you say you are hyper-aware of your body’s opposition to your mind/thoughts.
Bryan
Corey replies: I mean simply that I can’t focus on my thoughts because my pain distracts me. And when I can’t concentrate, I’m often tempted to (and sometimes do) just focus on nothing but the pain, really experience it, try not to ignore any part of it. I would say there’s more of a dualistic relationship between my mind and body than there is in most people I know.
Did you see this recent essay about itching by Atul Gawande?
The pain scale of 1-10 puzzles me also.
What if I am one of those who has a very low pain threshold . . . or very high?
Who standardizes pain? My 9 may be your 2.
How can you make a diagnosis on this subjective basis?
One thing I can get from this scale is a reference to the most pain my body has ever experienced to date. A 10 may be thought of as the most pain I can remember bearing. What if we forget?
p4limpsest is right to worry about the increase of value.
What if 10 is the most pain I can experience before dying and tomorrow when it reaches 10.1, I die from pain. Do people die from pain?
Better to use 9 as the safe value.
Tell your doctor 9. Tell yourself it’s a 9.
To describe this pain is to articulate our death or our near proximity to it.
The more accurately we describe it the closer we are to knowing it.
Is this all in our bodies?
Is this all in our heads?
Is this all in our culture, our class, our diet, our corporate medical mythology?
Corey replies: Hi Bryan. I definitely see your point. For me, however, pain doesn’t make me think of death so much as it makes me hyper-aware of my body’s opposition to my mind/thoughts. I suppose there’s a connection to death there, but I don’t think I feel it as strongly as others might. There’s a book that I’ve just started to read called The Body of Pain by Elaine Scarry which you might find interesting if you haven’t already read it. If you follow the link, look especially at the last paragraph in the description of the book.
sounds like you have some issues with your interstitial muscles. get a deep tissue massage!
Corey replies: I’m going to get tapeworms instead. That way I can feel better andlose weight!
No, I have that problem too. I also have a great deal of trouble when doctors want me to rank my pain on a scale of 1-10. I never know what to say to that, and I’m always afraid I’ll say 10 and then have the pain get worse.
Sorry you’re feeling pain, and I’m glad it’s getting better.
Corey replies: I’m glad I’m not the only one with the problem! Pain can sometimes go up to 11.