No Pain, All Dancing – Flash Fiction Story #11

NO PAIN, ALL DANCING

By Mary Wright (me)

There was one day each year that I would wake up and feel no pain, but the universe thought it would be too easy to have it on the same day.

When I was 18, on my birthday, I fell down a flight of stairs. What a way to celebrate, that was. They took me to the hospital, and I had broken ribs and lots of bruises, and a severe concussion, too. Everybody feared I would die or something, even though I was pretty much fine.

Don’t let me convince you that that first day wasn’t completely horribly exhausting, and that I wasn’t in so much pain, because I was. That’s the truth, I swear. But that next morning was like magic. I woke up, and heard the constant beeping of the heart monitor, but my head was no longer throbbing from the pain, and I could sit up without much effort. For the sake of my family, I didn’t take out my IV, but man, I would’ve probably danced with how great I felt suddenly.

It was short-lived. Two days after the accident, all the pain came back.

This was something I couldn’t really pinpoint, when it happened, why the universe picked this day or that day.  It turned out to be a sort of a curse, as the day of no pain usually came after some horrible illness or injury.

I’ll skip a few years here and there, because you don’t want to hear about every single one, do you? I sure don’t think I remember all of them, anyway. The accidents, I mean. I always will remember all the days where I was pain-free.

So. At 23, it was an avalanche while I was skiing. At 28, it was getting hit by a car. At 35, it was cancer, which I fought for five years before it went away. At 42, I got shot by a cop. At 48, my child died of a rare disease. (I still have that pain, but for that pain-free day I was okay to think only about the good things that he brought to my life.)

At 54, I had to have all my teeth filled from cavities. At 58, I fell from the sky out of a plane with a parachute that decided to stop working at 1,000 feet from the ground. (Yeah, I don’t know how I survived that one.) At 65, I am content when the no pain day arrives, since I have such bad arthritis, and my back and legs ache all the time.

These were all on separate days, like I said before. January 6th. June 20th. February 11th. Not predictable in the slightest. But I always wait for that day. I live for that day.

I hope to live longer, just to have those days, rather than being dead. That probably sounds ridiculous, but that’s how I feel.

Every morning, I sit up, seeing if there’s pain.

When there’s not, I rejoice, and dance until I cannot any longer.

 FIN

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