Chapter 1: A Unique Connection with Pain

I have always had a rather intriguing relationship with pain. To clarify, I am not someone who seeks discomfort for pleasure; rather, I question whether my experience of pain aligns with that of others. It seems unlikely that I am either uniquely gifted or flawed, yet I struggle to quantify my pain on a scale from 1 to 10. Perhaps my perception differs, or maybe others simply haven’t adapted to it as I have.

I can confirm that I am quite attuned to discomfort, yet I also accept that pain is a natural aspect of existence. Complaining serves little purpose; one must simply endure and move forward.

The human body can withstand remarkable levels of pain without succumbing or losing consciousness. Thus, I reserve a ten for extreme scenarios like being skinned alive or amputating a limb with a fork. In light of this perspective, I find it challenging to rationalize any typical pain—perhaps even what I might deem extraordinary—as higher than a four. How can one classify back pain as an eight when compared to the unimaginable agony of being burned alive, which most would agree merits a ten?

I perceive pain differently than pleasure. The latter begins at zero and ascends, while pain, in my mind, starts at ten and decreases. The concept of a baseline is also critical. At my age—neither youthful nor elderly—experiencing a day without pain is a fantasy. On a good day, my baseline is at least a one, with a typical state hovering around two.

For many, the dread of pain often overshadows the actual experience. Take, for instance, that gust of air the optometrist directs into your eye. Honestly, I’d prefer to endure glaucoma than ever face that again. Surely, advancements in AI could help improve that archaic device instead of generating mediocre poetry. What are they waiting for? Just instruct me to look straight ahead and press the trigger. Spare me the theatrics!

Fascinatingly, pain lacks memory. This phenomenon accounts for why women endure childbirth more than once. As excruciating as it is, once it subsides, the details fade from memory. Our brains are wired to react to pain as a survival mechanism, yet the recollection of it evades us. We retain a vague sense of discomfort but little more.

I understand that those living with chronic pain might have a different perspective, but I believe they would concur that we adapt to a certain level of pain over time—pain that would likely incapacitate most if introduced abruptly.

Pain arises from electrical and chemical signals relayed to the brain, alerting us to issues within the body. Thus, pain can be perceived as a construct of the mind.

In the iconic 1962 film "Lawrence of Arabia," Peter O’Toole showcases a trick where he allows a match to burn down to his fingertips. A novice attempts to mimic him and cries out as the fire sears his skin.

“Ahhh,” he gasps. “It bloody well hurts.”

“Of course, it hurts,” Lawrence replies.

“What’s the trick, then?”

“The trick, my dear fellow, is not minding that it hurts.”

Therein lies the crux of the matter. Pain is a cognitive process that demands precedence over other mental functions. It resembles a car alarm that you can try to ignore, but eventually, it drives you insane. Occasionally, it may quiet down, offering profound relief, but just when you think you can relax, it returns—often more maddening than before. When it finally ceases, it doesn’t take long to take the silence for granted. You struggle to remember how you functioned with that incessant noise.

Fortunately, we have the ability to distract ourselves, pushing pain into the background, at least temporarily. I’m not suggesting it’s simple. Anyone who attempts to engage in higher mental activities—especially creative tasks that demand intense focus, such as writing, designing, or directing—while contending with pain is exerting more effort than one might realize. They may be operating at only 60-70% capacity, as a significant portion of their cognitive resources is devoted to managing pain. Similar to someone who has lost a limb, they develop strategies to achieve more with less.

It has been nearly two weeks since my recent surgery, and I am still navigating the aftermath. I have moved beyond mere survival and can now allocate only about 30% of my mental capacity to pain. I am confident that this will decrease to 20%, then 10%, and ideally, down to zero as time progresses. Short-term discomfort for long-term benefits.

While I won’t be completely pain-free, as I still manage chronic back and neck issues, they are manageable. In truth, I could take more proactive measures to address them. However, if I could eliminate this obstacle entirely, it would open a new realm of possibilities for me. Imagine what I could achieve!

I have long theorized that significant challenges are essential for creative pursuits; without them, endeavors can falter, becoming lackluster and derivative. Creativity and innovation resemble muscle development; growth necessitates some degree of discomfort. If you were to find yourself free from pain and obstacles, there would be little motivation for creative expression.

You would simply exist.

If you appreciate this exploration into pain and creativity, consider following more posts by David Todd McCarty. If you are not yet a Medium subscriber, sign up to access all of David's articles, along with those from countless other engaging writers. Don't forget to click follow at the top of the page to stay updated.

Follow David Todd McCarty on Mastodon.

Chapter 2: The Neuroscience of Pain

This TEDx talk by Lorimer Moseley delves into the intricate relationship between pain and the brain, shedding light on why we feel pain the way we do.

Chapter 3: Understanding Pain's Impact

In this video, explore how pain influences our mental processes and daily lives, providing insights into pain's role in human experience.