by J. A. Buxton
Physical discomfort comes in varying degrees.
Write a story or poem about dealing with the worst pain (physical, not emotional) that you've ever felt (or that your character has ever felt).
Cynthia raced into the garage when she heard Roger screaming. The sight of him doubled over nearly stopped her heart from sheer terror. Their relationship was new since they met only a few months earlier. She knew Roger to be a strong-willed male used to workouts bringing him to the cusp of pain. He had often told Cynthia she was just a delicate female in need of his masculine protection.
“Roger,” she cried out, dragging the anguished man to his feet. “What happened?”
“I, oh, I can’t, it hurts so much!” Roger pulled out of her embrace and fell, once more, to the garage’s concrete floor. He started screaming again, interspersing his high-pitched sounds with gasping words, “Please make the pain stop.”
His screams escalated in intensity until Cynthia wanted to cover her ears. She gave his quivering body the once-over, looking for signs of blood and finding none. Nothing in the garage seemed out of place. On Roger’s work bench, a man’s special place where women should never intrude, Cynthia saw a wooden jewelry box Roger had been working on for her upcoming birthday. The special gift still needed smoothing out of the edges and final varnishing before Roger could give her the finished item.
Her attention returned to the new love of her life when he started crawling on hands and knees toward steps leading to the door into his home. Suddenly, he stopped and started vomiting halfway to the steps. He continued gagging and moaning until his puking gave him some relief. This lasted only seconds before new waves of pain took over his writhing frame.
“Please, Roger, talk to me,” Cynthia begged, kneeling beside him. “Where’s the pain? Do you need me to drive you to the hospital?” She was starting to panic, wondering if he was dying.
Roger pathetically, and with much effort, lifted his head to look at Cynthia. He remained next to the pool of partially digested breakfast he just brought back up. “Cynthia, yes, please. Take me to the hospital. Maybe they can remove it and take the pain away. For crying out loud, girl, hurry!” Roger said this last plea in a pitiful wail.
Completely confused, Cynthia again checked out what she could see of his body and still saw no gushing blood or gaping wound. Remove what? she thought, helping Roger back onto his feet. Keeping her left arm around his quaking shoulders, Cynthia guided Roger into the passenger side of his SUV.
All the way during the five-mile drive to the emergency room, she kept glancing over at Roger. He simply spent this time moaning and rocking back and forth in extreme pain. He did give Cynthia a clue to where he hurt by cradling his hand against his heaving chest. When Cynthia tried to see what was hurting him, Roger whimpered and turned away to lean against the door frame.
“Okay, love, we’re here.” Cynthia quickly got out and helped Roger into the hospital’s emergency room, all the while trying to soothe him with words of comfort. After leaving him in an empty plastic chair, bent over once again in excruciating pain, Cynthia tracked down an ER doctor.
The doctor swiftly took Roger into the restricted area behind double doors, leaving Cynthia to wait and wonder at her lover’s fate. Even through the closed doors, she could hear his pain-filled screams until they suddenly stopped. A few minutes later, the doctor returned to the waiting room and walked to where Cynthia was anxiously pacing back and forth.
“Doc, tell me quickly. I can take it. Will he live?” Cynthia pleaded, barely holding on to her frayed nerves. “What did you have to do? Did you have to amputate something?”
“He’ll be fine.” This doctor didn’t bother removing the amused look from his face when he explained, “Evidently he was working with something wooden, and I simply removed a little splinter from his thumb.”
Microsoft Word count = 655
"The Writer's Cramp" daily contest winner for 02/02/08