Thread by @empathywarrior

I'm currently doing an intake form for the pain clinic that does surgical procedures and I think it's hilarious (in a bad and awful way) that we still give these pain questionnaires to people like they 1) are somehow neutral; 2) aren't written from an abled perspective of pain

I see you, questionnaires, trying to elicit a particular narrative from me.

"Patient note: I've opted not to complete these particular questionnaires for X reasons, I'm happy to discuss my relationship to pain and illness more at our intake session!" is a phrase I just annotated this with.

If there is anything that I know from my research on testimony, trauma, and narrative, it is how carefully and how thoughtfully one has to articulate one's pain. Don't be too emotional, but also not too nonchalant. Don't sound rehearsed, but don't be too scattered.

And every time I have to fill out these kinds of forms, I just feel a deep sense of annoyance (and anger, to be honest) about the kinds of narratives these questions not only presume, but actively try to shape.

I think about (physical) pain much in the same way I think about (psychic) trauma, which is to say that we ought not to confuse the difficulty of narrating experience with the refusal to do so, esp. given the harm of the narrative structures that are often made available to us.

I'm thinking about @MCHammer noting that "when you measure, include the measurer." I know I am being doubly-measured: first by the pain questionnaire and then again by the person evaluating my responses to it. I feel outclassed by the measurement and by the measurers.

I'm filling out some of the questionnaires on this intake form because while I've had a reprieve from the pain, my neck's gonna hurt more again soon most likely, and I'm tired of that shit and I need help. But I'm still annoyed...theoretically and practically.

Also: can we talk about how visual analogue scales are weird? I keep thinking about how my face isn't at all a "tell" for pain, but it's the way my body shifts and curls around pain. It's the way I start to press my cold hand against my hot neck. It's how I shift in my chair.

It's not just because I've had years of pretending to not be in pain or discomfort, but also because living with daily pain has also created many different vectors of emotional and physical experiences of pain.

I often look bored or annoyed when I'm in a lot of pain, not grimacing.