The answer is a heartbreaking, unequivocal yes. Every movement is agony. The little monkey, named Miko, sits hunched and still, a stark contrast to the playful infant he should be. A deep, ulcerated wound mars the soft tissue inside his cheek—a sore that burns with a constant, raw pain. You can see it in his eyes: a glassy, distant look of suffering. He flinches when he tries to swallow his own saliva. The simple, instinctual act of rooting for food has become a source of torture.
The injury likely began as a small cut from a sharp piece of forage or a scratch during a fall. In the wild, his mother’s grooming and his own saliva might have healed it. But alone, stressed, and malnourished, his immune system faltered. The cut became infected, swelling into a painful abscess that burst, leaving an open, weeping wound. It hurts so much that he has stopped eating and drinking entirely, leading to a dangerous spiral of weakness and dehydration.
When rescuers found him, his pain was palpable. He was too exhausted to cry, but a faint, pained whimper escaped with each breath. The caregiver’s gentle examination confirmed the source of his misery. “Oh, little one,” she whispered, seeing the inflamed tissue. “No wonder you’re so quiet. Of course it hurts.”
Treatment is a delicate balance of relieving that pain and healing the injury. A mild, veterinary-safe analgesic is given first, to dull the sharpest edge of his discomfort. Then, with immense care, the wound is flushed with a sterile saline solution—a process he tolerates with a shudder, but without struggle, as if he understands it brings relief. A special antiseptic gel is applied to promote healing and fight infection.
Almost immediately, a change occurs. The tense hunch in his shoulders begins to relax. Within an hour, he accepts a few drops of water from a syringe. The next day, he manages a sip of diluted, soothing fruit puree. The profound relief is visible. The pain is not gone, but it is being managed. The distant look in his eyes is replaced by a tired but present awareness. He is no longer a prisoner of the hurt in his mouth. Each gentle treatment brings him closer to the day when the answer to “does it hurt?” will finally be “no.”
