'How much does it hurt?' says the pharmacist (or rather, the rather cheerful-looking woman on his front desk: the pharmacist himself was visible in his little area behind, and was a very severe-looking man of Indian-subcontinental descent). I shrug.
I don't know; I have a poor frame of reference for such things. It's probably the most painful thing I've experienced as an adult (it might not quite be up there with stubbing my toe really hard as a child), but I'm sure it's got nothing on, say, childbirth or kidney stones. I don't want to say it hurts a lot, because at the end of the day I don't really know that it does, compared to what anyone else may suffering at the moment.

My answer is held back the moment that I realise it's likely to include the phrase 'frame of reference'. After a few moments of having no idea what to say, I point out that it's sufficiently distracting and uncomfortable that I'm off work. That seems to do the trick.

I'm fine now, I think.