the derivation of the word threshold

comes from the process of threshing wheat

did you know that?

imagine threshing the wheat, in a large breezy room - the chaff and stalks fly out of the door with the wind

and the kernels fall to the ground
the thresh-hold was the lip on the door or gate which kept the important pieces of the process inside, whilst the unwanted stuff blows away
. .
the more material you have to thrash thru, the higher your threshold has to be - so as you don't loose the things you need to keep. . .
maybe it's your tolerance for pain - perhaps it is important to be able to keep going, for whatever reason. . .

. . .your tolerance level (your threshold) increases to cope with what is thrown at you

there are many kinds of pain,
aren't there

as a child I had such a high tolerance for physical pain (which my mother used to think was a good thing, in fact she encouraged it by telling me to be "a brave little soldier") that on one occasion I almost died as a result

at the age of eleven and a half I had vomited at school on a Friday morning and was then confined to the sick bay all day; there was noone to collect me, so I walked home in the afternoon and collapsed into bed

sometime on the Saturday afternoon my mother phoned the doctor - that was in the day when GPs visited; "it might be appendicitis" he said in his wisdom (I use that word loosely) when he finally made it round sometime on Saturday evening, "but it might not be - call me tomorrow and let me know how she is"

my father made me a hot drink of lemon and honey and put a medicinal dose of whisky in it; it knocked me out, as my stomach had been empty for two day by then and my alcohol tolerance was non existent seeing as I was only eleven

the following afternoon my mother phoned the doctor again; he arrived about five thirty and said to my parents "there is no time to call an ambulance - you need to drive her to hospital NOW"

the local children's hospital was quite a way away, I was too young for the nearby general hospital which was for adults and did not have a children's ward. . .

the anaesthetist administered the anaesthetic incorrectly in his nervousness and the speed with which the surgeon wanted to get onto the job - I can recall the surgeon saying to me kindly, as the anaesthetist put a mask over my face "count backwards from ten, by the time you reach five you won't be in pain anymore" I was feeling decidedly groggy and counted quite slowly as I couldn't remember my numbers properly - I got to minus six and could feel the panic rising just before someone gave me an injection that finally knocked me for many sixes

needless to say they whipped my appendix out just before it ruptured, which is why I'm still here to tell the tale - there was no mucking about, the cut across my stomach was huge; my lungs suffered permanent damage from the misadministration of the anesthetic and I had to stay in hospital for over two weeks having physio to get rid of all the fluid - very painful, trying to cough gunk up with a huge scar mending across one's stomach

what was more painful tho was the fact my parents didn't come to visit me once

"it's too foggy to drive" I remember my mother telling me one day, when I phoned to see how they all were at home. . .

when I got back the whole house had been re-carpeted! I remember thinking about that years later and wondering how long it must have taken my mother to move all the furniture about in and out from room to room as the carpet people took up the old carpet and underlay and put the new one down. . . over two weeks, possibly?

weird how emotional pain
hurts more
than physical pain

years and years later when I was first in the Head Hospital, I had a conversation with my father on the phone - it was "too far" for him to drive to come visit me - and he said "I don't know what's wrong with you, it's not like you were sexually assaulted or anything" (there were many things about me that my father had no idea of)

that was many years ago now, and I suspect that some kind of threshold has lowered somewhat, or my strength has increased - I am seeing him for the first time in a very long time on Friday

and I sat on the back step just now wondering if maybe I am being foolish, opening myself up again - taking down the high high threshold on one of my inner steps, that had actually blocked a door totally and become part of one of the walls around me

or maybe I am better at protecting myself now, stronger, so - no matter how low my threshold for certain types of pain are - because I am stronger, it won't hurt me anyhow

perhaps I am a fool. . .
. . .time will tell


Mel said...

Two weeks the fog was that bad?



Yaknow--I'm of the opinion that I simply canNOT guard my heart. I can tell myself it'll 'hurt less'--but if I'm honest with me.....still hurts and probably not 'less'.
I'm also of the opinion that ya gotta live in the life you've been graced with......which means growth moments are gonna happen.

Yippee, eh?

There's all kinds of pain in life---and equal (if not more) portions of joy.

Gordie said...

This happened to me when I was seven. I was given brandy. It was my appendix, too.

It happened to my dad when he was fifty six. His adrenal glands had exploded. He died.

Pain wants to be listened to. That's the only thing it's for, to tell us something needs our attention.

When we're in emotional pain, we need to listen to our own heart, then give it what it needs.

I, still, ♥ the views said...

mel that's the solution, isn't it - focus on the FGOs and the portions of joy (and super-size the joy wherever possible)

gordie ((((u)))))))

the same stupid doctor didn't diagnose my mother's primary or secondary cancers and when her condition eventually was diagnosed she was given six weeks to live. . .

and you're so right about listening to pain


(and despite the listening, it is positive to be distracted sometimes - which may or may not be a good thing, depending on the long or short term nature of the distraction - wouldn't you say? a change of focus, perhaps)(or a redressing of the balance)

Anonymous said...

It is true that pain should be listened to, but we should listen to anger as well; not give ourselves to these things... but....

My father was about 64 years old when he was first able to admit he hated his mother (one of the things she did to him was not allow him to have friends until he was about 14.) But, by that time she was senile and lost and there was nothing he could do but look past it... however, it still made him feel tons better simply to be able to admit it.

Good luck on Friday C:)

I, still, ♥ the views said...


Gordie said...

I suppose one of us should ask... what are you threshing? What's the wheat in this analogy, and what are you trying to separate it from?

I, still, ♥ the views said...

oh, I don't think that's really important - do you? it's the analogy that interested me, the semantics of the word. . .

I'm sure if it was really important I'd be spilling the beans for your delictation


sorrow11 said...

choices choices
what to remember what to forget
what to hold on to
what to let go of...
choices choices
I think the spa sounds like a perfectly divine idea..
can we get some one day guest passes or something?

I, still, ♥ the views said...

yes we can!

let's make a date for Thursday!

wonderful, I needed something to do on Thursday to cheet myself up a little!

thanks sorrow (you are allowed to come in your cheer leader outfit!)

mig bardsley said...

that's what I thought about the not visiting.
And too too late now but ((((((brave, small I))))))

Well, in your place I might not want to see that Father. And if I did, I'd be armoured with the knowledge that I was going to meet an emotionally incompetent person. Allowances to be made and all that.
Oh, do be careful dear I.

Gordie said...

You see, it was the analogy that interested me, too.

And I was tiptoeing gently towards acknowledging that when you were growing up, you were taught that you had to hold everything inside...

Then one day, a few years ago, you decided you were going to let everything out, to the surprise and amazement of everyone around you.

So I was wondering, maybe, if separating the good from the bad by hitting everything really hard might not be the best analogy for how you want to approach your life.


I, still, ♥ the views said...



see, that bit was obviously totally unconscious, cos it was the "saving the important stuff" (but like not throwing the baby out with the bath water) that was on my mind

like the love, and the respect, and the dignity

I've been doing some metaphorical plate smashing which meets the "hitting everything really hard " need. . .

I, still, ♥ the views said...

and yes mig, I shall be careful

thank you