The pain scale (fixed). Over the past few years, I’ve seen a lot of people on the internet trying to make “universal” pain charts, most of which are made of smiley faces or memes, but some of which are useful.
Of course, pain and tolerance are different for everybody, and I know how much of a pain in the ass (no pun intended) it can be to try to describe pain. Like — it hurts? What else do you want to know? I’ve spent three weeks trying my very hardest not to think about it at all, what do you mean, describe it?
It is useful to have benchmarks. I’ve only ever actually been asked to rate my pain like this once, and I was asked by a very new nurse reciting a mental script. I find it makes me feel better on my own to be able to quantify something so abstract, even if it’s just in my head. The version I settled on looks something like this:
0 — w-o-w nothing hurts am I in heaven?
Exactly what it sounds like. Nothing hurts. Moving on…
1 – minor annoyance, occasional twinges; don’t even think about painkillers.
Examples would include muscle spasms or having accidentally bitten your lip. More of a discomfort or inconvenience — it’s what you call the feeling of, “I’m not 100 percent right now, but nothing actually hurts.”
2 — stronger twinges; brief, minor pains; no medication needed.
This basically equates to saying, “Hey, body, what the heck? Don’t do that.” You can probably keep a straight face, but you’ll notice it’s there. Examples include that cramp you get in your hand after taking notes in class for an hour and a half, and the aches you feel after overworking yourself on a busy day.
3 — pain is noticeable at first, but you can adapt easily to it; won’t notice after a long enough period of time.
Sharper pains than a two, or perhaps more constant, but not that much worse, all things considered. If a two can be verbalized by saying, “Ow,” then a three would probably be that hissing noise you make when you get a paper cut. Examples include accidentally nicking yourself while shaving, that radiating/warm feeling after getting socked in the nose or the feeling of the needle when you’re giving blood. The sorts of pain that fade into background noise. Threes are where OTC pain medications are supposedly most effective.
4 — no longer able to completely adapt to pain; can possibly distract yourself briefly if very focused elsewhere.
Examples: toothache, stepping on a lego, bee sting, basic period cramps. Fours are officially under the heading of Complainable Pains, meaning the general consensus is that these things are worth being complained about, and if you reach a four on the pain scale, you actually should say something about it because there’s probably a problem that needs to be solved. This is normally the type of pain that says, “Something is not right with your body and it needs to be remedied!”
5 — preoccupied with managing pain; constantly noticeable, lifestyle curtailed.
Distracting pains that will take up part of your focus and attention. If a four is saying, “This should probably be dealt with,” then a five is chanting, “Fix it, fix it, fix it.” Think of a five as standing on a sprained ankle or moving wrong when you have a backache. Pain at a five will probably start to avoid certain activities or arrange your schedule around the pain.
6 — cannot be ignored for any length of time, though you are still able to participate in day-to-day life; pain at least partially dominates your senses, makes thoughts foggy.
Having pain that “partially dominates your senses” is more than being constantly conscious of its presence. For instance, you’d probably have difficulty paying attention to a movie once you reach a six. You might have trouble keeping conversations going because your train of thought jumps tracks to remind you that something hurts and needs attention. A bad non-migraine headache is the best example.
7 — pain makes it difficult to concentrate; difficulty sleeping; dominates your senses.
This is the miserable level of pain that just makes everything flat-out difficult. Not immobilizing in the sense that you’re unable to move, but just that movement is probably not worth the repercussions. Think of sevens as equating to migraines in effect.
8 — pain so intense you can no longer think clearly; can read/converse with great effort; pain causes nausea/dizziness; physical activity severely limited.
Some people put “childbirth” as their benchmark of number ten, so this may be where my version deviates a bit, but my example for an eight is giving birth. “Severely limited” basically means “you can’t move unless your life depends on it.”
9 — intolerable; no longer able to converse; near delirium; may be crying out or groaning uncontrollably.
This isn’t just pain that makes it impossible to move, but can also cause involuntary reactions. Rare, extraordinary pain, like getting hit by a car, having cancer, or being poisoned. Things I’ve never felt. I’ve never reached a nine on my own scale.
10 — don’t even. most people never experience in their lives.
Protip: If anyone asks you to rate your pain, even if it’s the worst thing you’ve ever experienced, do not say it’s a ten. Do not. Especially if you’re a woman. Nobody will believe you or take you seriously. Tens are things like having open heart surgery without anesthetic and being eaten alive. They’re not things you’d ever want to be conscious for, and probably wouldn’t be for long. Even if you’re in the most pain you’ve ever felt, saying it’s a seven or eight will yield more results than saying ten.
This isn’t particularly useful information, I know. I also think it might be useful to have an idea of this if the need should ever arise. For anyone with recurring or chronic pain, it can be reassuring to have concrete(ish) numbers to work with, even if you’re keeping track for yourself.
