(I wrote this yesterday but I forgot to post it! Oops! Yesterday being Friday…)
I have a close friend from school who is an outstanding musician. I’ve also know a few other musicians in my life due to constant participation in muscial activities at school – I played piano, sung in chiors, participated in orchestras and, most literally, was in a number of musicals. I’ve heard my friend, and others, say that they think in music, like artists often think in colour, or mathematicians think purely in numbers. Today, after around 14 years of doing it, I finally realised I think about pain in music. (I’m hoping the friend I’m refering to reads this, because she’s going to be so excited, proud and perhaps even more understanding of my pain now I can speak it in her language. And it means we’re even more similar than we thought!)
I am on round one of testing the severity of my withdrawal bleeds/periods on this new combination of medications, and I’m a day and a half in to my pill-free week. While the bleeding hasn’t really started yet, I have become abdominally bloated, and I have a bit of discomfort which is slowly getting worse. I just had a wave of pain, and I thought to myself, “that was quite high pitched!”. Its pain, it doesn’t make noise (I sometimes do in response, but that’s different!) but if you’d asked me to describe it I’d say is was the high point of a crescendo from a violin. The worst of my pain is more like timpanis, which can vary from just one, and a low rumbling, to a whole roomful just going nuts.
Oh wow. This is why I struggle to describe my pain to doctors. I just don’t associate with descriptors like sharp, strong, weak, dull, achey or throbbing. And if you’re a medical doctor based in Australia who is also a musician and read this and gets me, any chance you’d like a sea change to move to my lovely island state and help me translate?