Issue 45 - A guest post on pain by my dad, David Lea-Wilson
OCTOBER 2022
Lats month, I started reading a bit of Hilary Mantel’s writing on pain, and how it strips us back to an 'authentic self' (but one that she argues we should never see.) It made me think of my excellent Dad, David, and an extremely painful condition he has experienced. I asked him to share a few words.
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Just over two years ago, I experienced a pain in my upper jaw. Sharp and immediate, unlike anything I’d had before. My first thought, as a frequent flyer of the dental world, it must be a tooth. Several emergency appointments later, and I insisted that a dental surgeon took out a molar. He was reluctant. But as no painkiller was touching the sides, he eventually agreed.
The tooth went. The pain stayed. I thought it must have been the wrong one and desperately asked for him take out another one. After some persuading, he did. The pain remained, strong and dark.
That was the start of a medical journey. After countless appointments, specialists confirmed a condition that the dentist had mentioned during the second visit. Trigeminal Neuralgia. The three major nerves from my forehead, cheek and jaw, that convey all sensation of touch, feeling and temperature, were damaged and sending dire pain signals to my brain.
This pain experience was like nothing else.
Instead of short bursts I could recoil from, it came in bouts of ten or twenty seconds, fifty times a day. Barely time to breathe. The sheer tenacity of it, as a continuous experience, was excruciating. My body was in complete rigidity. My brain was almost paralysed. I could not get away. There was no escape.
The trigeminal nerve is actually a channel, containing 200,000 minor nerves. If they are squashed badly enough, they send an intense, 100% pain signal. The effect is so intense that the only thing I could liken it to would be a prolonged electric shock of the face. Totally untreatable with pain killers. Absolutely horribly persistent.
More than two years later - after trying various heavy medications, hundreds of fisherman's friends, (oddly the only thing that made a tiny difference) countless appointments, I went in for surgery.
The list of possible downsides on the consent forms was incredibly long. But the idea of an absence of pain trumped everything. I signed everything.
When I woke up, my immediate thought, amongst the beeping and monitoring was: does it hurt? But straight away, it felt different. I just knew the deep pain was gone. There was pain from the wound, but it was in a different league. When I came to, a brilliant nurse brought me a celebratory round of toast. I asked for six more, such was my appetite.
I feel unbelievably, overwhelmingly lucky to say that I am pain-free, thanks to an incredible neurosurgeon and a truly brilliant medical team. Long live the NHS.
FREE FROM PAIN (yes, it needs to be capitalised) is the most wonderful feeling. Every day feels nothing short of fantastic. I think about the lack of pain each and every morning. I revel in it.
I’m now helping to run an email advice point for the Trigeminal Neuralgia Association, to help other people with the condition.
Good things to click on
I loved listening to this, an audio snapshot of one female friendship
Several friends told me to watch this beautiful feature on drying your own dahlias (it starts at 22.39)
I found this interview centred around Hilary Mantel and the writers she inspired, very moving
October playlist
Been enjoying this playlist, made by the son of famous psychotherapist Esther Perel, for his mother. Listen to it here.
Have also been really enjoying reading Youtube comments of particularly emotional songs this month. See below under Al Green's 'Let's Stay Together'
'You have to write as though your parents were dead.'
Phillip Roth's fairly brutal advice to a young Ian McEwan, quoted in this interview
I took the photos this month at the Venice Biennale.
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