One of the worst things in life is listening to other people’s ailments. Getting told the latest medical report from folk you barely know can be galling for a number of reasons. For one, it’s hard to be witty when someone you’re not that familiar with is giving you a car crash headache and another is that you’re suffering this barrage of bad news while trying to smokescreen a yawn. The perpetual groaners seem to revel in their pain. I’ve seen myself locked, piggy-in-the-middle, in a sickness session ménage à trois conversation with two swinging whingers trying to outdo each other in the illness stakes. The contest seemed to be who is the nearest to death’s door.
The only thing worse than hearing about the dooms and glooms of others is when someone tells you about the dream they had last night. In the name of Bobby Ewing, go away. Dreams are insignificant and instantly forgettable. I can’t remember any dream I’ve ever had and I must have had billions of them.
Last night, though I didn’t have a dream. I had a nightmare. And it was a big one.
A creature had infiltrated the house and was creeping about in the dark. The dream was hazy and I couldn’t make out what the monster was. In ordinary circumstances I would have retreated to safer ground but this was different, we were in dreamland. The immortal words of Tipu Sultan inspired me.
“The day of a lion is better than a thousand of a jackal.”
I fought the intruder with all my might. I kicked and I punched, and using a form of fighting well-known in my land, I head-butted. I awoke to find the bedclothes in complete devastation. Then I felt a throb. During my confrontation I had banged my elbow on the bedside table. It was sore and I rubbed it. I know it’s galling listening to other people’s ailments but this was really hurting. You’ve no idea of the pain that was racing through my poor elbow.
My wife, on the other hand, on the other side of the bed, had two black eyes and a broken nose. She’ll have a job explaining that at her afternoon tea.
Boadicea's Chariot 
JW – It’s 36º in the shade here and the crickets are screaming fit to burst. Dog and cat comatose. The NSW has gone off to work and it’s too hot to do gardening or anything else outside. I’d lay off the cheese at suppertime if I were you.
OZ
You’re right, OZ. In future I will excercise more self-control. Sensible posts only from now on.
I’m sure that your missus will be fine, I do hope that your injured elbow hasn’t interrupted your drinking time, have you seen a doctor?
Pain? Don’t talk to me about pain! I recently devised a points system to identify the level of pain I might suffer from toothache. My dentist was well impressed. Here it is:
10. I’m dead.
9. I shoot myself in the head.
8. I repeatedly crash my skull against a wall.
7. I roll repeatedly on the carpet.
6. I am screaming.
5. I am crying.
4. I attack my wife
3. Pain is all that I know.
2. I need to see the dentist.
1. I have trouble reading a newspaper.
My dentist asked me what level of pain I was at on my appointment last Monday. I replied “0.38.” He was ever so impressed at my ability to calibrate so finely. In fact I might even have said 0.382.
JW – please feel free to adopt this scoring system. I do find it helps with the management of pain and when I get to level 4 then I certainly do derive some small comfort. (Over to you CO.)