Papercuts. Not one, but two papercuts – one on each hand. Right now, my pain level can be described as potentially pretty much around the grizzly-bear-mauling proportions experienced by Leonardo di Caprio/ Hugh Glass in The Revenant. You can watch the gut-wrenching scene here (3 min duration not for the faint-hearted). Fortunately though, I don’t have to find a horse carcass to recuperate in (another 3 min video not for those of a delicate disposition). This is a good thing as I busy myself wiping the trail of blood around my home whilst I bravely battle through the brain-fuddling agony.
Perhaps I should admit that my pain threshold is pitiful at the best of times (in direct contrast to my penchant for occasional overstatement). You may recall my 2015 foot injury which resulted in a trip to hospital A&E during which my dear friend Lola sat beside me giggling satanically at my predicament. I still haven’t entirely forgiven her for that (although we continue to be the best of friends), but am duly grateful to her for chauferring me around following that harrowing near-death experience. I’m happy to report that I made a full recovery from my
broken fractured mangled mutilated dismembered pulverised seriously injured toes and am once again able to perform the perfect ballerina pirouettes and twirls on my tiptoes like I was able to before the incident (in my imagination).
But back to my current gash/wound/laceration. The researcher in me immediately started looking up scientific papers about this moribund experience. Of course, I have been beaten to the punch, as there are numerous papers and articles summarising research into it, including one disdainful project resulting in a model for measuring fear of pain (including papercuts on fingers). Fear of pain? Are they joking? What I feel is not fear – it is very, very real, very, very present and very, very intense, pukka papercut pain. More reassuringly, though, another brief article titled ‘Paper May Be the Unkindest Cut‘ reported that “The thought of it makes the strong tremble and the weak pass out.”
Fortunately, I have not passed out from a papercut – yet! – although I almost do whenever I momentarily forget about having one and use hand sanitiser. Oh! the anguish, the torture, the utter tribulation of this mortal wound! As visions of my martyrdom flash before my eyes, I search valiantly for words to describe the degree of my suffering.There are many variants of the pain intensity scale, but the most common one, which is also used in hospitals across the world, is the Numeric Rating Scale (NRS-11). It is an 11-point scale (0-10) for patients’ self-reporting of pain in clinical settings. Known as the Subjective Pain Scale, I was amused to see an edited version of it floating around the internet. I share both versions here for your entertainment. Please note that my current papercut-driven pain scale is hovering somewhere between Levels 9 and 10. Level 10 in the amended version of the scale states that it is “pain so intense that you will go to the internet and joke about it hoping that the absurdity of it all will make it more manageable” – hence this blog post.
NB: This post is meant as a tongue-in-cheek catalogue of my papercut woes today. It is no way meant to be insensitive or disrespectful to those who are poorly, and particularly those suffering from chronic pain and illness. Good health is one of the greatest blessings on earth and its value can never be underestimated.
Saneeya Qureshi © 2018