HURTFUL MEMORIES

Memories. Nostalgia. Photo albums. Good stuff. Loss of a loved one. Breakup. Being laid off. Not-so-good stuff. These are good and bad memories. All in the brain(we could go into exact neuroanatomy). Old, new, imagined, good, bad. So many, and they are all over the place. Chronic pain and memory. Interesting. But its formation and reasoning are complicated. Literally. 

We all remember most of our accidents and falls as either embarrassing or funny. The question is… did the child who fell from the bicycle think it was funny or embarrassing? Maybe it just hurt badly. What do we do when something hurts us? Our reptilian brain warns us, and we learn that this is dangerous. Like fire is hot, thorns prick, and it hurts when you fall. Basic instincts. What we now call common sense. As adults, does this change? If so, how? 

Pain is also one such reflex that helps us stay away from danger. So does that mean we are in an eternal state of danger if we have chronic pain? So, here is a story. Once upon a time, there lived a Mr…… Mr.Kimpu. He was a middle-aged man, well-read. Ate well, slept well, worked out sometimes, and did meditation and yoga. One fine morning on his walk, he saw a chip packet flying around aimlessly, and since he was a good Samaritan, he went to pick it up and throw it in a dustbin. When he bent to pick it up, a sharp, stabbing pain shot through his left knee. Since he was a “good citizen” despite the pain, he threw the packet and later went and meet the doctor. He went around, met all the specialists, did all the scans, and did his due diligence to address this pain. All the doctors and the specialists gave him advice and medication to their best knowledge. The pain slowly became a nagging discomfort and stopped him from doing what he liked. Was he in pain? YES. Did he meet all the right doctors? YES. Were the scans all fine? YES. So why?

Mr.Kimpu resorted to the next closest thing with an abundance of information. Yes, only information. Whether it was right or wrong, no one knew. He sought the help of Google, and then social media, and then the experiences and well-intended advice of humans(spouse, relatives, neighbors, house-help, vegetable vendor, his local grocery store manager, etc.). With every new treatment style, he felt short-lived relief. None of the good-natured help could put Mr.Kimou together again. He convinced himself that this was it. He was now old and incapable of anything rigorous. His lifestyle became sedentary, and the pain became his constant companion. He thought of the village and the good old days and considered moving to the countryside. As he went down memory lane, he remembered the field, the lanes that he had cycled as a young lad. He smiled as he thought of his crush. He cycled every day to have a glimpse of her. And then came that incident.

Yes, that fateful day. It was etched in his memory as clearly as if it had happened yesterday.. He was cycling and going about as always. Lost in his thoughts, he did not see the small stone in front of him. He lost control. It was as though even before gravity had acted, a crowd gathered around and helped him. He was bleeding from the gash on his left knee, and then he saw her. Despite the pain, he put on a brave front and acted like it was not a big deal. He mounted his cycle and rode off. The pain was unbearable, but being less of a man in front of her was agonizingly embarrassing. He went home, took care of his wound, and forgot all about it. He did, but his brain had not.

His wound had healed, and everything was fine “physically”; the scans were impeccable. As he lay on his bed that night, he thought, was it the old injury? That had healed. But the memory had stayed. The embarrassment had stayed. He thought of the 20-year-old, he thought of what he felt, sad…very sad. He tried to make connections. Did he feel the same sadness now? NO. Did he feel the same embarrassment now? NO. What amazed him was the specificity of the memory. He remembered his clothes, the strap of his watch, its colour, the story around it, the colour and shape of his cycle seat, and its pattern. He eased into sleep thinking of all those little things.

Now comes the question. How is this related to his present knee pain? Had this memory come to haunt him out of the blue? What did the brain do to recall this incident? The brain did something naughty. Usually, something like an incident, some long-lost friend, or a page of a book reminds us of something long forgotten. What happened here was not pleasant. The pain reminded him of a memory. Looks like the brain had made a tricky pathway between this particular memory and knee pain. Either could incite or could be responsible for the other. Here, there were multiple emotions suppressed. The pain and embarrassment were pushed behind like they never existed. Here we speak of emotional pain and its role in triggering chronic pain. 

This article is not just about treating pain or diagnosing it. It is to explore the role of memory in the play of chronic pain. The mix-up of an emotion receptor with that of a pain receptor. Memories stay for a long time, and so does chronic pain. Memories are not just in the simple format of a link. It is associated with an audio-visual quality, mostly visual, barring the noise that comes with it. We write this autobiography in our brains all the time. But with autobiography comes its share of deception. It is a narrative at the end of the day, and the writer is you. These discrepancies also alter your emotional packaging, which tries to protect you but fails in the long run. You cannot cheat forever. 

The attempt to deal with this mammoth called Chronic Pain may point towards dealing with the emotional quotient that has been very masterfully diverted as pain by the Brain. The process is tedious as we uncover some very challenging memories and try to trace and track the starting point of the pain pathway. It is a journey worth making. The attempt to make this effort may unfold, and take you to the exact point where the mix-up happened. This could be the beginning of the healing that you were waiting for. Try, think. Let your brain tell you the true story. Who knows, maybe just untangling this knot, one may get to respite from your old companion, called Chronic Pain.