I’m fine…I say with a confident arching hand wave and higher than normal pitch in my voice. How many times a day do I say this to those who I are written in my daily story. Some may see me and think that this girl suppresses the true horror and pressures within. The truth of the matter is that all is good, really good, when compared to so many people. My sister put it in perspective for me during our epic backpack trip this past summer.
Yes, my Super-Sister knows who she is and protects that truth every day. Her profession as an ER nurse has magnified her view of the human plight and, in turn, she gifts me with a realist perspective of what fine really means.
But first, my narrow perception of “fine”. The sad to happy face pain scale mounted on the gp’s examining room wall forces one to a higher level self evaluation…what does pain really mean and how can one measure it? At least their own personal level of pain.
For years, I have felt I had a good handle on my own personal pain. As a big baby I my late 40’s, I skin my knee and my first inclination is to score my pain as a 5. Yep, this drama queen scores period cramps at a whopping 9. Again, this scale is subjective and personal. How can someone in the medical profession utilize this measurement tool seriously with soft shelled patients like me?
And now . . . her perception: Super sister’s scale reads like this…1-9 you’re fine! 10? Maybe . . . you’re not fine. Again, her experience with the chaotic stories of real hurting in ER gives her a qualified opinion of pain. Uh, my pain scale is a bit off balance. This is why I love having a sister who shakes the world with brutal honesty.
So returning to our epic backpacking trip where I would mutter a hint of a whine over a cut or bruise. Her instinct was to forcefully push the words, “You’re fine!” At first, I was taken aback by her quick response to my awful plight, but really it was a much needed slap!