Pain .. pane... payne... paen ..

Have you ever really given thought to the concept of pain? Not why it is caused or how, but the feeling of pain. I have, in some detail quite recently and I realised a couple of things:-
-> You always live through it. No matter how bad it is, even if you faint since your body cant take it, you always have to get up and pick up the pieces.
-> The memory of pain puts fear into you and also a hope that since you have already borne it, if it ever happens again, you can face it better.That doesnt happen.A memory turns out to be a pale recollection of the actual pain. Always.
-> You never get used to it.It is always there at the back of your mind waiting for you to get out of your safe cocoon, even a little slip.
-> Cribbing does no good, it doesn't lessen the pain, sharing doesn't reduce it for you(nor does it help the poor soul you offloaded on).It is your part of suffering, you have to carry it not matter how many helpful/sympathetic shoulders you find along the way.
-> It teaches you some lessons to remember.It steels you against making the same mistakes again.It fills you with a fear that it dares you to conquer.And it always is that one fear that you overcome makes it easier to overcome others.It shows you a glimpse of life outside your safe haven, life isn't a bed of roses, never was- you appreciate what normalcy more.
Whew, that was a morbid, morose what not piece of writing.
what brought about that was having Hydrogen Peroxide(I think) put on your 10 inch long skin wound and seeing froth build up on that while you feel like the thing is going to burn its way right into you!
This is my 3rd dressing for the wound, the first one on the night of the great fall, and I had thought betadene(I think) burns like mad.Dressing 2 saw the nurse pull out the first dressing that the new skin was trying to grow over and hence reopening the wound(and to think doctors would know this in advance!!!)Dressing 3 with the peroxide stuff that hurt so bad I had tears streaming down my face.Dressing 4 was the least painful of all. And now finally I can stop using a bandana/scarf/shawl/long sleeved outfits/dupattas to cover my war wounds, it still freaks out some people when they see my hand reaching for the 2nd floor button in the lift , they look at my face with a weird look of half pity and half fright, takes me a second to understand why and by then, I am out the lift!
It'll be as good as old in 2 months, until then, all sport under hold :)