painful yarns*
metaphors & stories to help understand the biology of pain.
by g. lorimer moseley
*yarn:\_yärn\, noun, a tale, especially a story of adventure or incredible happenings <He told a ripping good yarn>
To buy this book, go to any good bookshop. It would be cheaper to go to:
www.physiouk.co.uk - United Kingdom
www.noigroup.com - Asia/Pacific
This edition of painful yarns is published in 2010 by Dancing Giraffe Press.
Copyright © 2010 Lorimer Moseley
The right of Lorimer Moseley to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act UK 1988 and the Copyright Act 1968 Australia.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, Lorimer Moseley and Dancing Giraffe Press.
A CiP catalogue record for this title is available from the National Library of Australia:
Moseley, G. Lorimer (Graham Lorimer) 1970-
Painful Yarns. Metaphors & stories to help understand the biology of pain.
Bibliography.
Includes index.
ISBN 9780980358803 (pbk.)
ISBN 9780987342638 (ebk.)
1. pain – fiction. 2. Pain – Physiological aspects – fiction. 3. Rehabilitation – Fiction. I. Title.
A823.4
Printed & bound in Australia by Noigroup.
Front cover: A French bakery.
Back cover: Pleasure or pain?
This book should be cited as: Moseley, GL (2007) Painful yarns.
Metaphors & stories to help understand the biology of pain. Dancing Giraffe Press. Canberra, Australia: 113 pages.
Contents
introduction
nigel’s superskoda 110
crazy kivin’s brush with death
seeing is believing
the thirsty idiots
twonames & the magic button
scratchy & the boring talker (the snake bite stories)
mr hammerhead shark
ant fettuccine
dusty’s bum crack
ornithology & amazing grace
the hino story
references & further reading
post-script: call for stories
about the author
List of figures
Figure 1 Lines of the same length look different
Figure 2 The same colour illusion
Figure 3 Snake bite version 1
Figure 4 The nasty customer that got me
Figure 5 Snake bite version 2
I decided to write this book after a great deal of lobbying from two groups of people. The first group was patients with whom I shared these stories as I tried to explain to them what we now know about the biology of pain. I love stories as a way to back up biology. I am convinced that if people in pain can understand their pain in terms of its underlying biology, it helps them cope with it and ultimately overcome it. I rely on Explain PainRef List No. 1 to present the biology, and I use stories like the ones in this book to ‘cement’ it. So this book is for people in pain.
The second group who lobbied for this book was clinicians with whom I shared some of these stories at conferences, at seminars and at courses. I would always get asked ‘Have you written those stories down?’ Well, now I have. I have read versions of some of these stories being recounted as part of pain management program manuals. I am cool with that, but I didn’t feel right about the way the stories had become that little bit grander than they already were – I think one had me flying a helicopter while half conscious (I didn’t rush to correct it mind you – I felt a bit like Skippy the Bush Kangaroo). So, this book is for clinicians.
I have three hopes for this book. First, I hope you find the stories as interesting and as fun as I do. Second, I hope the stories help you understand the biology of pain. Third, I hope that TMBA, Mick, JK, Frank, Heidi, Smurph, Davo, Hannu, Dimos & Tan know I really appreciate your comments and suggestions on earlier versions of painful yarns.
Lorimer, Oxford, 2007.
Or: Pain is a critical protective device. Ignore it at your own peril.
When I first left school, I got what remains the coolest job I have ever had. It was so cool, I can’t even write here where I worked, nor what exactly I did. Now that is cool. I can say, however, that Nigel Mawson worked there too.
Nigel was the nicest of about 15 middle aged investigative coppers1. They were hard men. Nigel was a hard man too, there is no doubt about that, but he was a South Australian and sounded a bit like David Hookes. David Hookes was a cricketer2 who once told me I had a good straight drive but I needn’t try and hit the cover off the ball. That David Hookes said I had a good straight drive was enough for me, as a 14 year old, to like him. That Nigel Mawson sounded like him was enough for me, as a 19 year old, to like him.
The other thing that was peculiar and, to me, a bit endearing, was that he had an unusual habit of referring to everyone by their full name. I was always Lorimer Moseley. Never Lorimer. Never Moseley. Always Lorimer Moseley. He also did this in the third person - “I will be taking Lorimer Moseley out with me today – there is something Lorimer Moseley ought to see”. I have always been drawn to people who adhere to a silly little habit like that, even when to do so is considered by everyone else to be undoubtedly odd. So, unlike the rest of the grim- faced, overweight, estranged-from-their-family, married-to-their- job, chain smoking, heavy drinking blokes, Nigel didn’t scare me. That is why one day I asked him for a lift home from work.
Nigel drove a 1971 Skoda SuperSport 110. Nigel didn’t care for it, particularly. In fact, he made it clear that he refused to know anything at all about cars, simply because his brother had always been obsessed by them. Nigel said that as teenagers, his brother was as obsessed with cars as Nigel was with girls. He said:
Nigel Mawson: My brother would want to get busy with his girl in the back of his car so he could check out how his car performed! He