In a piece entitled Pain Is Silly! Be Prepared With Your Own Mini-Pharmacy, Slate’s Mark Joseph Stern writes:
“I live in the 21st century. Why should I have to experience minor pain? The miraculous pharmaceutical developments of our age have created a treatment for virtually every ache and malady. The vagaries of our regulatory system allow us to purchase many of these treatments in bulk, over the counter, for very little money. There is no good reason to leave the house without a cure for what might ail you in a few hours. And that is why I carry around a portable mini-pharmacy with me everywhere I go—and you should, too.
Everyone scoffs at the mini-pharmacy, which comprises one full pocket of a raggedy old backpack I tote around all day, as it clatters audibly up and down. I have everything in there, but the focus is on painkillers for headaches. Have you ever stoically suffered through a headache? That’s stupid. You should never do that. And if we were friends, you’d never have to. If you and I are ever in the same room, I will happily provide whichever pills you require.”
Why should you have to experience minor pain?
How about this:
The world is getting soft. Too soft. Also overmedicated. Overindulged. Coddled.
I attended college full time, earning two degrees simultaneously at two separate universities while serving as the Treasurer of the Student Senate, President of the National Honor Society, and columnist for the school newspaper. I did all this while managing a McDonald’s restaurant full-time, working in the school’s writing center part-time, and launching a small business that is still operating today.
Minor pain? Give me a break.
And I certainly wasn’t the only one I knew who was doing everything possible in order to excel.
I had friends who worked two and even three minimum wage jobs in order to avoid living at home with their parents. I had friends who joined the military and fought in Operation Desert Storm for the sole purpose of paying for their college education. I had friends living three and four and five in a single bedroom apartment to make rent. My best friend graduated from Bryant University (with honors) with a degree in computer science and then took jobs as an assistant manager at a department store and an overnight cleaner at a fast food restaurant for almost a year until he finally landed a job in his chosen field.
These were not men and women who worried about minor pain. These were not soft people. These were not folks prone to medication in order to relieve a sore back, a wrenched knee, or a stubbed toe. These were individuals who stepped over pain and suffering and sacrifice like it was a meaningless, insignificant nuisance in order to make their dreams come true.
I like Mark Joseph Stern. I read his work in Slate quite often. I listen to him when he appears on their podcasts. He’s an excellent writer and an interesting thinker.
But I am not a fan of this piece, nor am I a fan of his idea of carrying a mini-pharmacy wherever you go or medicating every minor pain you experience.
In Stern’s own words, neither is anyone else.
Ironically, I’m a person who believes in being prepared for almost everything. My years in Boy Scouts drilled this habit into me. The trunk of my car contains a first aid kit, blankets, and an extra set of clothes. My backpack has office supplies that I will probably never use. I stock every type of battery in my home at all times. I have 20 gallons of water stored in my basement in case of an emergency.
But in a world where children are now wrapped in bubble wrap and treated like China dolls, where playground surfaces are made of rubber and the idea of turning off a cell phone for the duration of a movie is unthinkable, and where young people would prefer to live at home rather than work long hours at terrible jobs for terrible pay, a little bit of minor pain strikes me as something that we could use a little more of in this world.
There’s a lot to be said in favor of toughness. Grit. Tenacity. Relentlessness. Resilience. Physical, mental, and emotional fortitude. The acceptance of struggle and hardship and pain on the road to success.
There is no room for mini-pharmacies on that road.
Grin and bear it. Accept a little minor pain every now and then. You’ll be the better for it.
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I agree with you about accepting minor pain every now and then, especially if it’s temporary pain.
I also don’t like the tone of Stern’s piece.
But as a person who does often carry a mini-pharmacy around with her (because of mild-moderate chronic pain), I think that you’re much too harsh on people who are softer than you are.
You write "There’s a lot to be said in favor of toughness. Grit. Tenacity. Relentlessness. Resilience. Physical, mental, and emotional fortitude. The acceptance of struggle and hardship and pain on the road to success. There is no room for mini-pharmacies on that road."
I call bullshit and will go so far to say that the last sentence makes me feel really angry. Like you, I value tenacity and fortiitude. Like you, I struggled in my younger life to be a strong, independent person. To be self-sufficient, to get my education without pecuniary support from my family, to work multiple jobs in order to meet my financial obligations. I get the need for acceptance of hardship and struggle.
But, guess what? Not everyone is as tough as you. Not everyone can be. And some who would like to be, and are trying to be, are still working on it. You’ve very fortunate to have been blessed with such an excessive amount of resilience. Some people come with their resilience built-in but other people have to learn it and deserve a little grace on their journey.
Do I pop an Advil every time I have a little headache? I do not. But I say there is room for a mini-pharmacy on the road because sometimes the headache lasts three days and the chiropractor is out of town. Sometimes I want to take my nephews on an adventure and the arthritis & torn meniscus in my knee make walking painful unless NSAIDs are involved. Heck, sometimes my IBS acts up when I’m nowhere near a bathroom, and my option is to take an anti-spasmodic medication or suffer lower abdominal cramping and the possibility of shitting my pants in public. My mini-pharmacy makes it possible for me to get stuff done when my physical limitations get in the way.
Please remember that not everyone is as indestructible as you are and stop being so goddamn judgmental towards us mere mortals.
So this post annoyed you.
It’s interesting: My initial reason for writing the post was based upon Stern’s first few sentences which essentially propose that the elimination of all minor pain is a reasonable and logical goal. This is what annoyed me at first, and it seems as if it annoyed you, too.
When I extended the argument to criticize the idea of carrying a mini-pharmacy around wherever you go, this is where I appear to have given rise to your anger.
A few thoughts:
After all, I carry an Epi-pen. Not a pain med, but a medication nonetheless.
But by Stern’s logic, everyone should be carrying a mini pharmacy, even if there is no apparent needs for pain meds. I have no reason to be taking any pain medication at this time, for example, but Stern would argue that in the 21st century, I should be carrying a variety meds anyway because I run the risk of experiencing minor pain at any moment.
This is the notion that I reject.
Perhaps more than a little.
But I also believe with all of my heart that for every person like you striving to achieve, there are ten who don’t. There are even more who who have given up. Never even tried. Lost hope. Expected more from their family or the world. Refuse to accept less than the ideal. These are the people who I think of when I write posts like this. My words may seem harsh and judgmental when read through the prism of your effort and struggle and success, but I think they also need to heard by those who lack the prism.
But a little grace is not an unreasonable request. Perhaps a little less judgment, too.