This blog post is inspired by another recent post (well, at this point, sort-of recent) by Madame Weebles.  Visit it and understand the pain she experienced in memorializing her cat, Pickles.  Awesome ink, by the way.  Anyway, in the commentary orgy that followed I nearly took over the poor woman’s post, so I elected to refrain from being a tool and do this post instead.

The idea today, Gentle Readers, is to describe my most painful events in life.  By this, I mean physical pain only.  I’m not going to bore you with tales of heartbreak as a nerdy kid that even pimply fat chicks wouldn’t date as a teenager.  No, this is about the Paingod, as I call her, and her workings in life… my life in particular.  Paingod is unforgiving, but Paingod is fair.  She knows of my high tolerance…  I’ll use Weebs’ Improved Pain Rating Scale (WIPRS) to reference here:


My earliest introduction to Paingod was at age seven.  I wrecked my bike and somehow gashed an inch-deep cut in my left shin, just under my knee.  This totally disrupted my family’s Sunday routine, and to be honest I didn’t feel much pain until the ER intern started suturing my stupid ass up.  To this day, I can hardly find the scar.  Remembering, I’d rate this as somewhere between 3 and 4 on the WIPRS, mainly due to seeing the inside of my leg and the nasty feel of the tensioned catgut being pulled through my flesh as I was repaired.

Track season of my high school freshman year gave me a just-this-side-of-torn quadricep (big’n in your thigh) doing a long jump warmup.  This just fucking hurt, and what was worse, I heard the tendon hyperextend.  This one gets a WIPRS score of 3 but with an ‘angry’ face too, because I missed three meets after that one.

Next, I’ll offer broken ribs.  I was 19 and playing a pick-up game of “touch” football at the junior college I used to springboard myself into my college of choice.  I got the first down and a sudden inablility to breathe.  I asked for a pause, recovered, and finished the game.  The ribs remained there like a cluster of rusty nails in my back for a month.  This one gets a WIPRS of 5.

Then there was the burning cinder that lodged in my eye as a Lieutenant doing fire-fighting work on a gunnery range.  Got me to the ER again, and no real harm, but holy-motherfuck-Paingod-its-my-eyeball-with-a-whole-flaming-Sequoia-in-it.  This gets a WIPRS of 3.

Once, when my awesome college-bound boy was 4, I stepped on his Lego piece.  On linoleum.  Paingod is cruel, and this WIPRS is a 5.  No fucking joke.  Paingod invented Legos.

Ever had your diaphragm cramp?  I blame the self-healed broke ribs, and every time that grabs, Paingod gives me a WIPRS experience in the 4 to 5 range, then allows me to breathe again.

My occasional migraines: WIPRS between 4 and 5, while I listen to Paingod’s radio play in my explody head.

The ultimate punishment Paingod ever gave me, and I have to assume this was for consuming live infants while punching cute puppies in a former life, happened in Afghanistan on my first sabbatical.  I was the gunner on an MRAP equipped with a Mark-19 grenade launcher (think: 5 hand grenades landing on your nuts every second).  I loaded the weapon as I knew how, and then managed to slam the feed-tray cover (a heavy, unforgiving, spring-loaded plate of cold steel) on. my. motherfucking. thumb.

Paingod smiled, Rants nearly passed out.  This had to be like all women’s childbirth crammed into the last joint of my thumb.  My right thumb, of course, being right-handed.  But Paingod knew that, of course.  Did you know that only the genitals and lips on the human body have more nerve endings?  True, and I am so glad my junk wasn’t caught in the launcher.  No shit, my vision dimmed and shrunk to a tiny circle.

When the mission was over, I cleaned off the blood and later had to drill a hole in my thumbnail with my buck knife to relieve the blood blister pressure.  Then the thumbnail fell off, and for the next three months, I kept the fucking thing superglued to myself.  Final WIPRS rating: The Shining Lady.

The Paingod is unforgiving.

The Paingod is fair.

87 Responses to “Paingod”

  1. I’m going to punch the paingod in the genitalia and rip out its throat. fair is fair…and ouch.

  2. I scoff at your Paingod!

    You want pain, Pal?

    I have been married more than once!

    I am 57 years old with 6 & 10 year old daughters!

    Oh, wait…that’s not pain. That’s stupid.

    My bad.

    Carry on.

  3. I once cut off the tip of my finger at work. They brought it to the hospital separate from me. What’s funny is this was a 1 on the pain scale. My body went into shock and preventing me from feeling any pain at all. It wasn’t until they sowed it back on that my body decided to react.

  4. I actually paused (as usual, in amused fascination) when I got to the analogy of hand grenades and nuts. I thought, “Hmm. There is no reference point here to which I can relate. I wonder how this translates to the childbirth scale.”

    And then your next item related to the childbirth scale. Cool.

    I really dig seeing things from your Rantsly perspective. Even when you’re in pain, which is the sole reason I didn’t “like” this post. I like it, but I didn’t want to invite Paingod karma.

  5. I don’t worry too much about paingod anymore. I’ve had more than enough visits, and while she’s not an old friend anymore, she does fall into the class of that relative you have to be nice to even though you’d rather never see again.
    At some point I realized no matter how high it hurt on the scale, eventually (with the right dose of Percocet or willful ignorance), it goes away…

  6. Men are pussies! But I think stepping on a Lego is higher on the pain scale…that and kicking the couch with your little toe.
    My worst pain ever was not one of my 4 surgeries, but an injection MRI in my hip…worst pain ever.

    • The irony of a woman calling men pussies because we’re not equipped to perform the most painful possible biological function that only women can do makes my frontal cortex giggle.

  7. dentaleggs Says:

    Rants, you poor thing. I mean that. You’ve been through a lot.

  8. Prior to my migraines arriving with a vengeance, I gotta say I’ve done pretty good. I’ve had no broken bones, though I’ve gotten plenty of appendages mashed under hammers and such. Worst was probably when the splitting maul’s handle broke, and crashed (blunt end down, thank you Paingod) on my foot, eliciting a line of expletives that made my ex-Navy father blush. 😯
    I far more remember notable electrocutions. That was my shtick. Best one was rewiring a socket with my bare feet braced against a hot-water-heating-system pipe. I got the whole thing done, and was fitting the outlet cover when the screwdriver slipped. I had braces on at the time, and I swear I tasted steel for a month afterwards! 😀
    Though from personal experience, I gotta say the WIPRS needs a seven. Imagine (for you guys) having your nuts slooooooooowly drawn through an old washing-machine wringer. For about 8-9 hours. Welcome to the wonderful world of my “migraines”. 🙂

  9. I have two:
    Childbirth, I did it with no medications. Yes, I’m insane. It was the worst and most painful experience of my entire life not only physically but emotionally thanks to my family. If I ever have a child again, that epidural will be ready and waiting for me and there will be NO family sitting in the room with me when I’m laboring. That should eliminate both physical and mental anguish.

    Second was when my appendix exploded inside of me then the poisons and toxins sat festering in my body for hours. More on that here: but regardless that I was 6 years old….I will never forget it.

  10. Brain, the title of your post is what caught me. A wonderful tale by Harlan Ellison.

    Right now Paingod rules my life.
    Unexpected bouts of electrical shocks throughout my body, the numbness and searing pain through the portions surrounding those that are paralyzed.
    The doctors cannot explain any of it, the disease is too rare. This is about the Weebles Scale of physical and not emotional pain though so.. Wait! There’s More!
    horrendous headaches, the daily strain of PT and OT. She has visited before.; childbirth, gallbladder attack, invasive back surgery and recovery. Thankfully I fight.. as I do not believe in any gods.

    Amazing post Mr. Rants. thank you.
    The comments of your readers make me want to fight all the harder.
    There is ALWAYS someone iin the thrall of Paingod with more to fight for, and in more pain, than you yourself.

    • Rachel, this is a shot in the dark, but are your pain problems in your back and lower extremities? A buddy of mine, Mark Pakulak over at The Idiot Speaketh suffers from Cauda Equina Syndrome, compliments of a horrifically botched back surgery. Just a thought as to the cause of your problems. (And I now realise you probably know far more about your situation than even your doctors, so I’ll stop saying silly, obvious things. 😉 )

      • John,
        appreciate the comment. Thank you. The pain is throughout the body, but mainly the upper torso. The disease is Transverse Myelitis, and affects one in a million people at best. Had an acute onset: complete paralysis of the lower body and pain that knocked me unconscious. No warnings.
        Weird that you mentioned a botched spinal surgery on your friend (am heading over to his blog after this to check it out) as mine was successful. Well, will always have chronic back pain and deterioration but there is NO WAY I’ll go through another spinal procedure.
        Your comment showed that there are a lot of caring people in our blogosphere, and I really forget sometimes. Take care, and I am interested as hell to check out Mark’s situation and how he deals with it.

    • Very glad I’m helping… and I’m a Harlan Ellison fan too!

  11. Had a dream once I was strapped down and completely intubated. Had to slowly using only a couple fingers, no thumb, reel in a catheter from my junk, then somehow pull more tubes up my throat and out my nostrils, then a bunch of I.V.’s whilst still strapped in. Only to wake up to a nurse standing in the doorway saying “where did all this blood come from!?” and a gasping “oh my!”. Then a team had to reinsert all of said tubes and lines. Wasn’t a dream….I was never asleep.

  12. Ouch! Ouch! (thought the burning ember was the worst until that thumb crush….better try to appease the PainGod with something – you can’t take many more hits

  13. I suppose my most painful moment was slamming my finger in the car door. I was a teenager and working at a fast food place. Ran out to my car for something, slammed my finger, went back in and back to work. The worst was working over the hot oil fryers and bumping my injured finger. I was manning the register and a secret shopper came up asked if I was ok and I showed him my finger saying I slammed it. He practically jumped over the counter at my manager and told me to go to the emergency room. Apparently, I was in full shock, not feeling it but in cold sweats and white as a sheet. Went to urgent care and they poked the nail to relieve the pressure, bandaged me up and sent me home.

    • Sounds a lot like an Mark-19 feed-tray incident. Yikes! Way to be a trooper!

      • I’m guessing the Mk 19 feed tray cover is a bit heavier than a Mauser (Czech VZ24) bolt getting kicked home by your buddy? Though I will admit, walking forehead edge-on into an airplane wing will ring your bell quite nicely. Never take a shorter woman – especially my wife, just as much the itinerant smart-aleck as I am – to an airplane museum!

        • Dude, Google the Mark-19 and shit. I’m just glad I have a right thumb past the last carpal joint.

          • Hey! Chill, dude! I didn’t have my weapons manuals to hand, that was all. 😉
            Though I’ll give ya a non-finger one – I was “killed” on a re-enacting field, laying there enjoying the warm sun, when some jackanape throws himself down behind me for “cover”, and empties a full M-1 with the muzzle 1.5″ from my right ear! Worst part was, a German stahlhelm of WW2 comes over the ears like a modern US Army helmet (for your readers, not you), acting as a reflector (steel, not modern composites – again, for your readers). Icepick in the ear, anybody? 😯

          • I’m chill. No wonder you’re in such sad condition now.

          • And I haven’t even told you of all the trichloroethylene I unintentionally inhaled as a kid. Dad got it from the Bell System as a cleaning fluid. EPA tagged it as a massive carcinogen when I hit about 22 – right around when my first migraines hit. Throw in gas fumes and lacquer thinner, and let’s just say, I don’t allow smoking within 50 feet of me. For other people’s sake….. 😀

          • I’m surprised you haven’t mutated yet.

          • Who says I haven’t? 😯

          • I worked at a plant that used “Trike” as a parts degreaser. The shop drunk used to come in and take a few lungfuls as a morning-after headache reliever. If his liver hasn’t imploded, he probably has three arms, and a prehensile tail. 😀

          • Yes! And he can knit with his fucking penis!!

      • Thanks. I can’t even imagine the thumb crusher. Glad your digit made a full recovery.

  14. I once shut my middle finger, my most IMPORTANT finger, in my car door. The pain was so excruciating that I nearly passed out. I managed to hang on to consciousness but only barely. Back surgery paled in comparison. No one told me the trick about drilling a hole in the nail until after it was healed (thanks everyone). I lost the nail too and even still have some minor nerve damage in it. I hope to God that I never experience that kind of pain again.

  15. whiteladyinthehood Says:

    Good thing the burning cinder didn’t damage your eyes! (you gotta nice pair of those)
    Worst pain for me that was physical, motorcycle about 40 mph, slams into a truck tailgate – broken femur and the hole it put under my kneecap. Absolute worst – it took ER doc twice to set the bone in place. I was screaming – morphine did not help!

  16. Come on Sergeant, you know we can wear those cushy gloves in that precious Afghan heat. Plus you did something good to boost morale for the rest, I´m sure they had some laughs. Man would I´ve loved to ride in one of those MRAP´s.

    • Sergeant? No brother, I’m a Lieutenant Colonel. Yes, I was manning the gun because I was the only motherfucker who knew how to employ it, in spite of the thumb thing.

      • Sorry about that, I never saw(in the Spanish army)saw a Lieutenant Colonel ever on patrol in one of our vehicles. They where sitting cushy, cushy in their own little world. We have our own version of the Mark-19,(also 40mm grenades lauching) and even a private was trained on the basics as to how to use it,maybe didn´t know how to take it apart and know all the pieces, but yes on the basics. My bad, Lt.Colonel.

  17. Many thanks for the promo, my friend. But fuck you for your ridiculously high tolerance of pain. How is it that most of the things you’ve listed here are no more than a 3 or 4? Granted, stepping on a Lego, on linoleum, is truly a 5. Same thing with stepping on a plug on a hardwood floor. Instant homicidal rage. And I think that if you step on a plug or Lego and then go on a killing spree, that’s your defense right there. “Your honor, my client stepped on a Lego.” “Case dismissed.”

    I haven’t ever slammed my thumb in a grenade launcher but I don’t think I would enjoy it, especially if YOU give it a 6.

    Also, your Paingod is a woman?? Come on, dude (notice, I didn’t use that dreaded name for you). Also, shouldn’t she be Paingoddess then?

  18. Many years ago I suffered from crippling headaches but they weren’t migraines, no one knew why. The ONLY good thing was the demerol, hands down the best drug EVER (and I may have tested a few of the other ones). Pain went from 6 to 0 in seconds.

    I am in awe of some of your commenters with the pain they live with every day. Such courage and inner strength; may the force be with you all.

  19. Paingod makes everyone observing his actions (and other’s reading this) laugh hysterically. And besides Youtube would not be what it is today without the gallery of the work of Paingod.

  20. Think kidney stone! If childbirth is an 8, kidney stone is a 12! It takes approximately 7 months to work a stone from your kidney to your bladder & since no doctor’s could figure out what was wrong with me, I suffered through stone attacks the whole time. Every time the stone moved, I downed a bunch of Tylenol, buried my head in a pillow & screamed until I was so exhausted I would finally sleep. I have a very large threshold for pain & this totally toppled me.

  21. Try getting a mammogram! One technician squeezed me so hard I swear a cyst inside popped, and I nearly did pass out. It makes childbirth a piece of cake. Would that be like having your nuts squeezed til they pop?

Join the Ranting!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: