Pain is For Wimps

My older sister is undergoing knee surgery today.  She’s been walking around and working as a nurse with some significant knee pain for a while now.  I’m glad she’s getting it addressed, I’ve had two knee operations, including a reconstruction so I know the benefits.  She and I share a family trait where we have a fairly high tolerance for pain.  Both of us walked around with burst appendix before finally going in and getting appendectomies.  Mine happened when I was just starting a new class in a military school.  I was away from the family and felt pretty bad.  During the break each hour I crawled under the table and tried to ease the pain.  Late that night my roommate finally forced me to go the emergency room and I was in surgery within thirty minutes.  When I woke up in the recovery room I remember the first message I got was from my sister.  She had been through the same thing a few years before.  This happened on a Thursday night and I was discharged from the hospital on Sunday.  On Monday morning I was back in class because I didn’t want to get recycled and forced to stay away from the family longer.  It was painful but tolerable.  We’ve always been that way – shrugging off things that other people have trouble dealing with - pain wise.  My wife could not be more different – the slightest illness or pain requires immediate medical attention.  She’s the smarter of the two of us.  I’m a product of the Army and the infantry officer culture where pain was looked upon as weakness – not to be tolerated.  We were expected to tolerate pain and set the example in a very tough business.  As a lieutenant I completed a 12 mile timed forced march with ruck sack on a sprained ankle – again not very smart – but expected.  This was something that permeates the infantry culture – you’re letting down the team if you acknowledge your body’s weakness.  I know my wife worries about me precisely because I tend to ignore pain.  She’s always pestering me to go to the doctor is she notices the slightest hitch in the way I walk or move.  She knows it hurts worse than I will admit.  This is getting tougher as I get older because there seems to be a new hitch almost daily.  It will probably be what kills me – ignoring something that I shouldn’t have.