Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: PAIN (04/21/22)
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TITLE: Possibly the End | Previous Challenge Entry
By Dennis Fletcher
04/27/22 -
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Could nothing happen to ensure my ideals? Is there anything that I can do to see straight, to hear correctly again? To be able to hold something soft and actually feel softness? Is there anything that could ever bring me back to where I was just an instant ago?
I can hear cars in the distance roaring by as though nothing is different. How can they just ignore what has happened? How can they just drive past such a scene and do nothing? Do they not care? Where is their humanity?
My mind reels in horror as intense feelings of burning pain race through my body to my mind, only to create more horror, more dread. Will this never stop? Will this pain consume me from the inside out and tear my very heart out of my chest?
The phone rings, or was it a text notification? My vision is blurred from the tears, impairing any semblance of sight I might be able to gain. The sound is distant, as though my very ears have decided to fail me, my eardrum begins throbbing as yet another wave of pain soars through my body. There is no way I could possibly consider answering any form of communication while in this state of demise.
I can hear voices, have they finally come for me? Have they come to carry my decomposing body from this area? Maybe they have come to unceremoniously discard me in the dump, so as to not have to deal with what surely must be a horrendous wound.
What must they be staring at? I have no doubt that some will have symptoms of post-traumatic stress syndrome after being forced to witness such atrocities as what has happened to me.
Another surge of pain flashes through my abdomen, into my legs, and out my toes, only to come rushing back, heading through my spine and straight for my head. This is like being on a roller coaster without any harness or other safety devices. I feel myself falling, as though I am being wrenched out of the cart, only to be flung back in a moment later.
The rush of pain, more agonizing than anything I have ever before been forced to withstand will not go away but instead attacks every sense within me. My body will not react as I will it, my thoughts cannot focus on any other thing, near or far. My emotions are intertwined to the ups and downs of the rushing blood that is taking the sensations to and from each extremity, then to my brain.
Oh, how am I to withstand this any longer? How am I to ever go on living the carefree life I have always lived in this horrible condition? Will this ever pass?
Finally, I hear a calming, loving voice try to comfort me as he hands me something.
I can feel my thoughts coming back into focus, my hearing begins to return to its normal state as my eardrums stop keeping cadence with my heartbeat. I look up to see my savior, my rescuer. I see the one who wants to help me go on and heal from this horrific accident. The one with an abundance of love and compassion.
He is handing me something, gesturing for me to take it. He calmly says, “Here daddy, a bandaid for your booboo.”
I can see the love in his eyes as he smiles at me. “This will make it all better.” He quickly says as I take it from his hand.
Suddenly I come to my senses, realizing that he has seen my reaction to my paper cut. I thankfully take the bandage from his little hand and begin to unwrap it.
“Thank you, son, “I say to him, mustering all of the strength I can, “You’ve been such a big help to daddy. This is so kind.”
As I unwrap it, I find myself swooning from the effects of the loss of blood. I rush to get the bandage over my cut, anxiously awaiting the fainting spell I am sure is to come from such a loss.
I realize now why my wife rolls her eyes whenever I say ouch.
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I was getting a little impatient at the prolonged repetative exposure the reader was subjected to, but in the end it was great fun.
Love the humour.
Don't worry. As a nurse, I have seen lots of men just about lose it at the sight of blood -- especially their own. Including my own husband. And I feel for their (your) inability to change that reaction.
If anyone calls you a "wuss," just reply, "I'm a common male."