Hell, I don’t know, a three, maybe?
Turns out my imagined pain scale placed my number rather low. I considered a one to be a bee sting and a ten to feel like I was cutting off my own left hand with a rusty hacksaw.
Given such a context, yeah, my pain registered in at a three. Well, apparently my tape measure, pulled from too many movies, belied my actual discomfort. My three is their six. Once we aligned our rulers I finally received relief.
Pain is subjective. How long is a string? How deep your depression? How high your elation?
The surgeon showed up and apologised. Surgery doesn’t always run on time. I’m glad mine did, though.
Thanks for you guys’ kind thoughts.