Pain management

This whole constant-pain thing is really quite interesting. Now, I'm a bloke and as such I'm bound by the code of blokedom not to complain about it. If I were a girl, I'm sure I wouldn't have been to work at all this week, such is the pain involved in walking to and from the train station every day. So I'm not complaining about the pain as such, I'm just mentioning that it is there and it's rather a nuisance. It's "just a flesh wound" if you know what I mean, ignoring the fact that it doesn't actually involve flesh (it's a bone thing) and it isn't a wound either; I think I'm drawing attention to that famous Monty Python quote in order to illustrate the ahh-it's-nothing-ness and general blokeness of the sentiment expressed therein. It feels like I have this way of walking on my right foot that doesn't cause any discomfort but any deviation from that perfect step brings excruciating pain in a whole lot of areas: both sides of the ankle and right up the achilles. When this happens, my leg partially gives way and I wince in pain. The interesting part is trying to separate that wincing bit from the pain. I mean, sometimes when it happens, I say 'ouch'. But why say that? What a silly thing to do! Why does pain elicit the 'ouch' response and not, say, cause us to sing My Sharona? Why, for that matter, does pain cause a sharp drawing of breath and contortion of facial muscles? Someone once told me (could have been Bruce) about this guy who had learnt to do really good prat falls and was asked how he managed to do them so well, to which he replied 'The secret is in not minding that it hurts'. This statement is at the backbone of my pain management strategies. I mean, the pain is pretty much constantly there, but shit it gets tiring saying 'ouch' and half falling over all day. It's so much more convenient just to keep on walking and say to oneself 'Gosh, that's an interesting sensation. My bones are grinding against each other... is it morning tea time yet?' or 'Wow, that's what it must feel like to have a nine-inch nail hammered into the back of one's shin... man, I never realised the difference between early and late Bauhaus design was so distinct!' You see? It's so much less of a bother merely to notice the pain rather than going through the whole melodrama of falling over, clutching limbs, crying and screaming. All that only gets you sympathy and sympathy is so bloody patronising and it doesn't really help at all. I'd rather much less sympathy and much more being able to walk like a normal person. The not-minding-that-it-hurts strategy helps me feel a bit less like a cripple and I guess it's my way from distancing myself from the pain. Apart from which it's all the way down there in my ankle, which is nearly as far away from my brain as possible, so it should hardly hurt at all, right?