What Does Pain Really Mean?
Everyone has felt pain at some point — a headache, a paper cut, a stubbed toe, or even a broken bone. Those are the kinds of pain most people understand. But what if pain never went away? What if it followed every step, every breath, every morning you tried to get out of bed?
More than 56 million people live with chronic pain every single day. For them, it takes everything they have just to face the morning. Most of the time, you can’t tell who’s suffering. They look fine on the outside, but inside, they’re fighting a battle that never ends.
Think about the times frustration has taken over — when a co-worker seemed to move too slowly, or someone in line took too long, or a friend missed work again. It’s easy to judge when someone’s pace doesn’t match our own. But what if that person was living with pain so deep and constant that even standing was a victory?
People with chronic pain are judged every day — by co-workers, friends, family, and even doctors. They don’t get to choose this life. They simply do their best to make it through each day. For many, it takes years to get a diagnosis, and even then, there’s often no cure — only management.
So again, what is pain?
The International Association for the Study of Pain (IASP) defines it as:
“An unpleasant sensory and emotional experience associated with or resembling that associated with actual or potential tissue damage.”
The Mayo Clinic defines chronic pain as:
“Pain experienced on most days, or every day, for three months or more.”
But definitions can’t capture what pain really feels like. Pain is personal. It can stab, burn, throb, or ache. It can move from one part of the body to another, confusing doctors and patients alike. It can steal sleep, energy, and joy. And because pain is invisible, it’s often misunderstood.
Doctors aren’t always trained in pain management, which means many people spend years searching for answers. Most chronic pain patients have multiple conditions that overlap, making treatment even more complicated.
My Story
I’ve been called a “complicated patient.” My journey with chronic pain began in 2010. I’ve had both cervical and lumbar spinal fusions due to degenerative disc disease — a condition that becomes more common with age as the discs between vertebrae wear down. In my case, years of hard work wore my spine out too soon.
What doctors don’t always explain before a fusion is that the discs above and below the fused area take on extra stress. Over time, they wear out faster — a domino effect that leads to more pain and fewer surgical options. Eventually, you’re told it’s time for “pain management.”
Then life threw me another curveball. I fell and hit my head on a cement floor, which led to a rare condition called migralepsy — migraines that trigger seizure-like episodes. The symptoms mimic a stroke: facial drooping, weakness on one side, sensory changes, and intense head pain.
For me, it started with the smell of smoke that wasn’t there. Then came the weakness, the numbness, the drooping face. I’d be bedridden for days. Later, I was diagnosed with bilateral occipital neuralgia, caused by inflammation around my cervical fusion. The pain radiates from the back of my head, down my neck, and into my shoulders.
For years, I received injections every four months. Now, I undergo nerve ablation — burning the affected nerves in my cervical spine every four to six months. Since starting that treatment, I haven’t had a migralepsy episode.
Pain has changed my life in ways I never expected. It’s taken things from me, but it’s also taught me empathy — to look beyond what I can see, to understand that everyone carries something unseen.
So, what does pain really mean?
It means strength. It means endurance. It means waking up every day and choosing to keep going, even when the world can’t see the battle being fought inside.