I Can See Right Through You

Mike is still in pain. He can't raise his left arm, his neck and shoulder are still hurting. He can't find a comfortable sleeping position, and he has to find ways to do more tasks with his right arm. He tries not to let on that this is effecting him, but he can't always hide the tension in his face that builds up as the day goes on and pain wears on him. And yes, I do see the grimaces when he tries to do something that would normally be easy but it just hurts.
Now I am not one that responds to wimpiness, and I have frequently used the phrase, "Would you like some cheese with that whine?"
But I am not sure there are great benefits to the "I haven't got time for the pain" method of healing either.
Mike went and saw a specialist last week. I saw Mike's jaw clench and eyes water as the doctor poked and prodded his neck and shoulder, expressed concern with the bone movement and ordered a CT scan. He looked at the instacare x-ray and said it was not detailed enough to show the problems.
Even the x-ray is trying to hide the pain.
There is one thing that Mike is totally transparent about. He really misses riding his bike, and not riding is impacting him as much if not more than the pain. Each time he goes into the garage he looks at the broken and mangled pieces of his bike, and mourns a little. He had worked long and hard getting every component and adjustment perfect on that bike. No parts are salvageable. I offered to help him arrange a burial, but we need to keep it until the insurance is done with it.
We took it to the bike shop to get a statement for replacement cost. As we unloaded it, each of us carrying parts and some dangling pieces dragging on the ground, I said, "When we go in there, please walk up to the repair desk and say - I think something is wrong with my bike. It isn't handling well. Can you fix it?"
He wouldn't say it. That tells you how much the pain is effecting him.
Does a wounded sense of humor count as pain and suffering?