Perhaps it has something to do with the part of the world in which I am living.  But I find that there is a disturbing level of aggression outdoors, making it feel anywhere from unpleasant to downright dangerous to leave the sanctuary of my home and go out for a short walk.

A few days ago, I went on a walk at night.  As I was approaching an intersection, two cars behind me also were approaching the same intersection.  I considered just walking forward, instead of turning left as planned, because I can’t stand the energy of drivers who gun their engines at an intersection and impatiently inch forward, as a pedestrian crosses the road.

But I am always taking precautions that take me out of my way, which gets tiresome, so I decided to just trust the drivers and cross the street as planned.  As I was crossing, I heard one of the cars driving – not inching, but driving — toward me.  On the one hand, I did not want to turn and look at the car, because headlights can be blinding.  On the other hand, I wanted to see where the car was in relation to me.  I also admittedly wanted to shoot a death look at the idiotic driver.

I was freaked to see the driver seriously coming straight at me. The lights were those crazy super white luxury car lights that are especially blinding.  Which left me something akin to a deer caught in the headlights.  I yelled at the driver, who made not one motion of acknowledgment while clipping past and scaring me.

The nerve shot from the headlights triggered eye pain that has been dormant for a  while.  I walked home with my eyes closed for as much of the walk as possible.  When I arrived, I sat in the dark for 15 minutes, with my eyes closed — grounding myself and sending myself energy, to overcome the stabbing nerve pain in my eye and shock to my nervous system. I have been dealing with sharp eye pain, on and off, since that incident.

I am no less than astounded by the complete disregard so many people, at least around these parts, have for human life, dignity, and/or body space.

Today I went for a happy walk in the sunshine.  As I passed the first alleyway on the sidewalk, I paused and turned my head to the right, to make sure there were no cars zipping out — which cars often do, as if there are no pedestrians or other cars to look out for.  Right at that moment, a car full of young men sped by and shouted something at me, then laughed as they took off.

The jolt from the shout sent a shock wave through my nervous system.  Why would people do something like that, I wondered.  I also tried to distinguish the word they shouted.  Then I got it: “Slut.”  A word used to indiscriminately sexualize and demean women, obviously irrespective of circumstance.

I felt angry.  I played with the energy.  I sat with it for a little bit, then yelled, “Fuck you!”  in the direction of the car. I breathed in positive energy. I yelled and jumped on the grass in one bounding motion, exhaling the negative energy. I channeled more positivity. I loudly and firmly said, “No no no no!” For the rest of the walk, I otherwise processed the energy, my feelings about the interaction, and my thoughts about the implication of gender relations in our society.

Then as I was nearing home, I heard someone pounding behind me. It was a jogger, just a second behind me. I started to move to the right, as he ran past, super close. My ankle started hurting. Can’t people give a little extra body space or at least give heads-up, like I do when I am about to pass – giving someone the awareness and opportunity to move over?

Sometimes I just don’t want to leave the house.

And then there’s the added layer that all those Law of Attraction types will take an opportunity like this to ramble on about how your thoughts create your reality, blah blah blah, by expecting cars and people to behave a certain way, you make ‘em do it, yada yada yada.

But here’s the thing: There’s a reason why we anticipate cars moving in certain ways and people acting in certain ways, namely, they do those things. Repeatedly. And if we don’t acknowledge it and take precautions, we’re basically dumb.

I believe there is a balance between asserting our own positive energy and allowing the possibility of a different outcome, and acknowledging the current reality and taking it into consideration. But I’ll save that for another blog post.

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I am writing an article on what I have termed The Good Patient Syndrome — where those of us with chronic health conditions end up behaving in ways that are against our interest, so as to avoid being labeled a pain-in-the-ass patient and treated accordingly. Do you have a story to share? Please contact me at loolwa@dancingwithpain.com.

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I am working on a 30 minute video segment for a nationally-syndicated show on health & wellness, reaching 34 million viewers. If you live in the Southern California area; if you are open to being filmed doing movement in a Dancing with Pain® class; and if you are open to being interviewed about your experience in the class, you are invited to participate in a free session. Email me at loolwa@dancingwithpain.com for details.

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After spending 30-years with Crohn’s disease, a painful inflammation of the intestine, I have had more emergency room visits than many people have had summer vacations.  I have had kidney stones, gall stones, abscesses, intestinal blockages, dangerous fevers, toxic shock and acute arthritis pain just to give a few samples.

Inevitably, one of the first things an emergency room doctor asks me to do is to rate my pain on a scale from one to ten. Unfortunately, this scale says much more about a patient’s tolerance for pain than it does about the pain itself.

We all have different pain thresholds. Because of my illness, my threshold has always been rather high. I once went six months with a perforated intestine without missing a day of school. It was my last year of high school and I was determined to stick it out to get good grades for college.  When I did finally seek treatment the doctors were surprised I had been able to do anything- even walk- considering the rough shape I had been in.

This brings me to an important point. If you have never been in extreme pain, how would you even know what a ten-scale pain feels like? If a bruised toe is the worst pain you have ever felt, it may feel like a ten to you, but is that rating really useful to a doctor?

Let’s compare the same bruised toe to the upper end of my pain scale:

10 – Unconscious. I react to the most extreme form of pain like most people do. I pass out. If I am awake to hear the question – it’s not a 10.

9 – Shock. The pain is so bad that it ceases to feel like pain, but triggers a message to the brain that something is seriously wrong. All feeling seems to shut down. It is like being in a dream. What’s going on around you doesn’t seem real. All you can think of is that something is desperately out of sorts with your body.

That means, if I can answer the doctor – it’s not really a 9.

8 – Vomiting.   This is another common reaction to extreme pain. If the pain is an 8, I still can’t answer the question because I’m too busy keeping myself from losing my lunch.

As you can see, the doctor won’t likely get a response from me if the pain is any higher than seven. Seven is my threshold for even the most basic communication. This means at a seven I’m usually screaming my head off if I’m not doped up on morphine or some other opiate.  I associate this type of pain with things like acute kidney stone attacks.

So to sum up, if I can answer the question and keep from screaming at the top of my lungs, it’s likely a maximum of six on my pain scale.  But if I tell the doctor it’s a six, she likely won’t take the pain too seriously.

Moving to the lower end of the pain scale, I can’t honestly tell you what a zero feels like. I have been in some sort of discomfort for as long as I can remember.  I’d view my standard discomfort on a good day as a two or three.

The final problem with the pain scale is that it doesn’t differentiate between chronic pain and acute pain.  While pain at a four or five level is tolerable for me in the short run, after weeks or months it can really mess up my mind and body. It’s easy to get worn down day after day when dealing with pain. Not being able to sleep well, or even relax, tends to hamper my ability to deal with almost everything.

Unfortunately, short of getting into another person’s body, there is no accurate method of measuring most kinds of pain. Doctors can rarely do more than guess based on what they see and hear.  All I can hope is that when I ask for morphine they won’t laugh at me and imply I’m faking the pain to get drugs like one doctor did to me ten years ago.

More recent experiences suggest that hospitals are getting better at recognizing and treating pain despite the flaws in the ten-point scale. But I still sometimes worry that my biggest obstacle to getting pain relief is my own thick skin.

Jason Reid is an award-winning journalist and former news manager. He writes on success and chronic illness issues at Sick with Success. He also does public speaking and consults with business on these same topics. He works from his house on the shores of Lake Ontario near Toronto.

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I believe that we have the power to connect on the energy airwaves, by putting out our intention — as if tuning into a radio dial.  I also believe that as we bring together our energies, we amplify the power we have to use our respective energies to heal. 

I have decided to tap into this social alchemy by setting aside a time each day for all of us to join our energies together in a virtual dance party.  Follow me on Twitter, to find out the time each day. 

Even if you are at work in an office, you can stop at the given time, take one minute to set up your intention to give and receive this energy, then dance with us in your imagination.  And of course, wherever you are, keep in mind the basic principles of Dancing with Pain®:

1. Dance from the floor, in a chair, or on your feet. It’s all equally legit!  If your pain is seriously jacked up throughout your body, rest in the most comfortable of all positions, and dance in your imagination.
2. Stay in your comfort zone.  Move gently and cautiously, especially as you begin to explore this method, so that you become aware of a looming pain zone before you cross into it.  Stay on the no-pain side of that line. You never, ever want to trigger a pain response through your movement.  The Dancing with Pain® motto is, “Less pain, more gain.”  We fill up and expand the place of comfort, ease, and joy.  The light of the candle expands, diminishing the darkness.
3. Be aware of and responsive to your body in any given moment.  What feels easy-breezy during the first five minutes may start hurting after.  If a particular movement begins to hurt, stop doing it.  Get creative and find out what you can do. Value micro-movements and micro-shifts in your mobility.

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