Wow, so many painful things, physically and mentally, that you all have endured. Keep strong and prayers to you!
For physically I started thinking and realized just how many I've had: fractured wrist, torn ligament and tendon in ankle, removal of wisdom tooth then passing out the next day and busting my chin open requiring 9 stitches (that was so gross looking I almost fainted again!), slicing one finger open on a can requiring stitches and another almost cutting off with a knife requiring stitches, staph infections twice, natural childbirth twice (the thought of an epidural or any needles just grossed me out at the time), sinus infections, migraines, injuring my big toe and going through physical therapy, pain meds, shots, and surgery only to discover that there's now no cartilage between my foot and toe bones, having what I thought were panic attacks for like a year before I had a seizure and a neurologist confirmed that they were actually auras and a precursor to seizures (I'm on meds now) and nine months of symptoms before I was diagnosed with uterine cancer and had a full hysterectomy. (I think that was more mentally painful for DH.) The great thing now is that my neurologist figured out that my migraines and sinus infections are caused by allergy symptoms- the inflammation and congestion means not enough oxygen gets to my brain and the fluid build up causes infections. I HATE needles but I hate sinus and migraine pain more so I finally went to an ENT, got allergy tested, and am now getting two shots a week to hopefully make me resistant and eventually not have problems. Already I am getting less migraines.
The absolute worst physical pain EVER for me though started out because of mental pain. After my father passed unexpectedly of cancer (like a pp it was within two months of diagnosis, and he was only 53) I began experiencing bouts of depression. Finally at the urging of DH I sought help and the doctor tried several meds over a few years. Then I unexpectedly lost my best friend in a car accident and it got worse. He put me on a new med. About a week later I started getting a rash on my arms and thought I'd just eaten something or got something on me. The next day I had a bad sour throat and went to the base clinic. They thought it was strep throat, gave me meds, and sent me home. The next day I had a routine visit with my psychiatrist and after hearing my symptoms told me the name of something I'd never heard of and told me to stop my meds and that I needed to follow up with the clinic. I tried to get in that day but they said since I didn't have strep it couldn't be that serious so they'd follow up after the weekend. The next day was Thanksgiving and I lay in bed practically all day because the rash had spread everywhere and was getting more painful. I work in retail so I had to work the next day- Black Friday- but when I went in my boss took one look at me and sent me home. I spent the weekend in bed in agony- the rash turned into what looked like blisters and burns covering my whole body and I was in agony. DH tried calling the base on call dr. all weekend but they blew it off and said they'd see me Monday. He took the boys to school, went in to work, and I lay in bed all day waiting for a call. He called the clinic before he got off and demanded to speak to someone in charge. By some miracle the dr. he spoke to knew what it was when he described my symptoms- she had recently treated a boy in Germany for it- and it was the same thing my psychiatrist had said! She said I needed to get to the ER so DH got me there (thankfully our friends picked the boys up and took care of them) and I was admitted. By that time the infection had spread into my mouth, down my throat and to my lungs so I could hardly breathe. My entire body was covered with blisters, my eyes and lips so swollen I could hardly open either. I was in intensive care for four days and then in a regular room for three more. I remember crying and praying time would go faster because they could only give me morphine once an hour. They had to draw blood once an hour too, wipe me down with betadine and skin was just sloughing off like a burn victim. It's called Stevens-Johnson syndrome (don't google it if you are faint of heart) and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. The good thing about having it was that when I was diagnosed with cancer I remember thinking "I can handle this."