A Pained Life: Living Unseen

By Carol Levy, PNN Columnist

AARP Magazine recently had an interview with Michael J. Fox, the actor who has Parkinson's disease. Fox spends much of his time working to teach others about the disease.

“I am a motivator and someone who tries to demystify and normalize Parkinson's - to take away any shame or sense that it should be hidden. Because unfortunately, it will inevitably reveal itself,” Fox said.

I read those words and thought, how can the pain community do this? Is there any way we can demystify and reveal what chronic pain is like? My answer is invariably, no.

Pain does not reveal itself easily to others, absent people in pain grimacing, making painful sounds (“Ouch, that hurts!”) or being vocal about their pain (“I can't go, because of my pain.”) Often those behaviors are seen as dramatizing, being lazy or a hypochondriac.

I contrasted this with a recent cooking competition I watched on TV. Prior to entering the studio cooking area, the contestant chef said, “I recently hurt my shoulder.” He added that he hoped the pain would not affect his performance. And it didn't.  He won.  

Afterwards the contestant said, “I didn't notice the pain in my shoulder until after the round was concluded, although the pain was there the entire time.”

No host or judge was there to comment, but I wondered. When he said he had pain, it was just accepted. There was no one in the wings asking, “How can it be you had the pain but could still function in the kitchen?” or “If your pain is so bad, how were able to get past it?”

Or, had he lost the contest, someone might have asked, “Did you intend to use your shoulder pain as an excuse if you lost?”

I come back to this issue -- the invisibility of our pain -- because other disorders like Parkinson’s have visibility. You can see how they impact the lives of Michael J. Fox and others.  

I wrote in a recent column about my experience of being “mask shamed” for not wearing a mask at a hospital. The week after that incident, I was mask shamed again by a conductor on a train into Philadelphia for refusing to mask.

While masks are mandated on public transportation, there are exemptions for certain groups of disabled. Because I have trigeminal neuralgia, I fall into one of those groups.  I bring this up because, when I talked with a manager, I found myself in a small debate with him.

“Had I had an oxygen tank with me, there would have been no issue. The conductor would not have done what she did,” I said.

The manager responded, “Well that is a very different situation.”

“Why is that? That person can’t wear a mask and I can’t mask either.”

“But you can see the reason for why she can't mask,” he replied.

I found myself having to educate him in the only way we can.

“If I had cancer, diabetes or heart disease, you can see none of those but that doesn’t mean I don’t have them.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Oh yeah, I see your point.”

“I am invisible, understand, simply because people refuse to see me,” wrote Ralph Ellison in the Invisible Man. “When they approach me they see only my surroundings, themselves or figments of their imagination, indeed, everything and anything except me.”  

Ellison was writing about being unseen as a person of color, but the description defines pain sufferers as well. 

Maybe, when we try to explain our invisible illness, we need to point out the obvious, as Akiko Busch did in her book, How to Disappear: “The entire world is shining with things we cannot see.”

Carol Jay Levy has lived with trigeminal neuralgia, a chronic facial pain disorder, for over 30 years. She is the author of “A Pained Life, A Chronic Pain Journey.”  Carol is the moderator of the Facebook support group “Women in Pain Awareness.” Her blog “The Pained Life” can be found here.