The Written Podcast: Painkillers, and the Feeling of Them Working

Painkillers don’t actually kill the pain. This is a fairly common fact. They’re wrongly named, because they only cut the signal from those tender nerves to your brain. Without boring you with the science, but a certain chemical is released to momentarily make you believe the pain is no longer there, subsequently helping you relax and concentrate on whatever activity the pain is preventing you from completing.

Those adverts you see littered all over TV, about how painkillers give you the ability to run and jump around, bend and contort yourself, pick up heavy objects or children and heave them onto your back. Of course these adverts have to state – in their own way – how their painkiller is the one to by above all else. I’m a human being which at some point I’ve experienced enough pain to warrant taking some painkillers, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to stand, walk, or even sleep properly unless I took something to stop those nerves from screaming. I’ve also discovered that with those painkillers only cutting off the signal between nerves and brain, those nerves are still pulsating. Those nerves are still screaming in pain; only no one can hear them anymore.

I also learnt that the correct way to take painkillers is to stop feeling the pain whilst you rest in order to settle those nerves down. Running around the house with a child on my back is not something I would want to do. Imagine, if you will, incredible back pain, preventing you from standing up straight and walking properly, and then out of the blue, a child jumps onto your back. Two things would happen: You would collapse and then scream in pain because those nerves are screaming in pain. Now, take the pain away but keep those nerves screaming before the child jumps on your back, and then… those nerves would pulsate as violently as before, just you cannot feel it anymore. That means you’ve probably done more damage than if you would just sit down and relax, or take it easy when walking around the house.

Basically, those adverts are straight up lying to you, on a technical note. You absolutely can run around the house with a child on your back, but the moment those painkillers start wearing off and the nerves regain their voice, you’re going to be in even more pain that before… this will then force you to take more painkillers… Oh, I finally see their intention now… these companies would rather destroy your back instead of making an honest pound…

Was that too harsh? I doubt these companies actively want to destroy people’s backs, otherwise they wouldn’t help relieve the pain, but instead do the total opposite. But, then why show people potentially making their backs worse, or knees worse by running, or hands worse by carrying on with their DIY?

Maybe I’m looking at these adverts too literal. There’s a good chance that they simply want to show what can be achieved once you’ve taken these painkillers. The fact that you could run around with a child on your back shows how effective those pills actually are. They’re so good at getting rid of the pain you wouldn’t feel it at all when doing anything… even though if you attempted to do anything you probably would ultimately damage your nerves further. So, their showing you what can be achieved, even though the thing their showing you can do isn’t at all recommended. So their showing what isn’t recommended you do to prove how effective their painkillers are. So their showing how effective their painkillers are by warping reality enough that not one of those people in advertland wouldn’t have any worsening effects once the pills have worn off… I think I’m confusing myself.

But we still buy them. We still take them. And I’m confident a good portion of people who do buy a particular painkiller on the basis of an advert does have the knowledge that you shouldn’t run around, but instead rest and relax. I do feel for those who do fall for the fakery within those adverts… poor choice of words?

We buy them because we know they work. It’s as simple as that. And we will continue to take them – that’s also just as simple. Regardless of what those adverts say, when you’re experiencing unrelenting pain, all you want to do is get rid of it, and there’s a good chance that we may not actually care what painkiller we take as long as it gets rid of the pain, and isn’t illegal. Not sure why I had to add that last part.

Before I continue to overanalyse something that probably needn’t have been, I will more on to talking about the second part of this podcast’s title, and that’s the feeling of them working once they’ve kicked in. I could say: Long story short, it’s weird, and leave it there. But I’m sure there’s a few of you out there who would love to know why it’s weird, so this part of the podcast is for you.

After a particularly long day at work, the sun was overpowering my vision about ninety-nine percent of my day, and strained my eyes. That amount of intense light made my eyes ache by the time I crawled into bed. This isn’t the first time my eyes have been affected, and so I was confident in not taking any painkillers, because sleeping usually does the trick. Having my eyes closed for eight hours straight allows them to settle down and by the time my alarm goes off, they’re OK again.

Unfortunately, this time wasn’t to be the case. I got woken up due to the pain in my eyes being sharp. They had been strained so much, that the rapid eye movement of REM sleep made the nerves at the back scream, waking me up. Knowing they wouldn’t get better naturally, because if they were going to, my sleep wouldn’t have been disturbed, I had no choice but to take some painkillers. When you’re trying to rest your eyes, they hurt. So, I got up and took a brand of painkillers I won’t be mentioning, as this isn’t a podcast that’s about to start a war between which painkiller is better. Don’t worry, it wasn’t illegal… not sure why I had to add that part

I took a couple of pills with some water and made my way back to bed, and waited. Normally, when you do take some painkillers, you would carry on. Not with anything strenuous as running around with a child on your back, but instead, distract yourself: Read a book, watch TV, play games, write a podcast; something that occupies your brain enough that once those painkillers have kicked in and have cut the signal, you may not notice it. There have been plenty of occasions when I noticed the pain has gone, but not sure when exactly it went away – that’s a good thing because I knew my nerves were relaxing as intended.

This particular time, however, I had nothing to distract myself. I went to bed and laid in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. And then the pain went away. I wasn’t counting the seconds before it did, but I knew it went away, because it wasn’t a gradual decrease, but a sudden cut off point as if the painkillers went up the nerves and switched them off like a light switch. Yes, I’m aware that’s their intention, but feeling that moment happen was weird. The pain simply went. I felt it no more. No minutes passed before it was gone, but a second. The feeling of pain going away instantly was… a strange feeling – borderline indescribable, because it was at the time. I was waiting for them to kick it, but wasn’t sure when they would, and so when they did, I was surprised.

I did get back to sleep and by the morning my eyes were perfectly fine once more. Now imagine if I took those painkillers during the day and continued straining my eyes, but I couldn’t feel the pain anymore. How bad would they ache during the night once the pills had worn off? I dread to think.

Adverts tells us the facts: They’re good painkillers; but they don’t tell us all the facts. We would probably be in excruciating pain once they’re worn off. Painkillers do certainly work, and if you pay attention to when they do, the instant lack thereof any pain is a weird feeling to have, but one thing for sure is it’s definitely better than the pain of which was before the weirdness… I’m sure I could have worded that last part a bit differently to make it sound a little more philosophical, but that would make it sound out of place; just like the weirdness that comes… nope, I’ll stop there.

Thanks for reading

Antony Hudson

(TonyHadNouns)