Haha, yes I have corrected the typo in the previous post. Typing on my phone, with the small screen, is really difficult, so please point out, or excuse any further ones in my flash fiction piece for today.
I'm starting to type at 6:00pm, so let's see how long this takes ;)
When the alarm clock shrieks each morning, my first conscious thought is always the same question. How bad is the pain?
The second thought is a command. Don't move.
Wriggling my fingers, I check my body, limbs, abdomen, torso, neck, head. I can't forget, so I create a mental map of where it hurts and how much. Is it general, or localized? Sharp, or an ache? Are there other strange sensations? Cold, heat, numbness, stiffness? What's the location, a muscle, joint, bone, or near a specific organ? I have to be as accurate as possible, but as each day goes by, my ability to judge changes a little, warps and distends. On a scale of one to ten, is a seven the same as it was last week? How about a year ago? Five years ago?
Now I can move. Now I can answer that first question. How bad is the pain?
Funny how the cat always knows before I do. On good days, he'll lay on my chest and rub my chin with his nose. He doesn't mind the stubble. On bad days, he'll sit at my shoulder, purring and kneading the blankets. Sometimes he drools.
Lately, no matter how much I sleep, I never feel rested. The doctor said it's a pain feedback loop. When you're awake, your brain is able to hide from the pain, but when you're asleep, your defenses are down so you never actually hit REM mode. Sleep deprecation is one of the worst ways to wear down, torture, and destroy a human mind.
Three minutes since the alarm went off. Time to see if I can stand. I add mental notes to my pain-map when I sit up, then again when I'm on my feet. How clear-headed am I? Am I going to blackout? Are my muscles reliable? Should I grab the window-sill for support?
I have to remember everything, at least until I get to my computer.
Walking, my left knee twinges, bad. The one I wrecked playing soccer. The injury that killed my career. When it happened, that would have been a ten on my pain-scale, now it would be a three, maybe four. It would be a good day.
One spreadsheet page a month. Date, how I slept, every abnormal sensation in my body through every moment of every day. At three-hundred-sixty-five days a year, I've got over a thousand days worth of information. I have no urge to flip through old pages, to check specific dates like my ex-girlfriend's birthday, or Christmas, to see how I was feeling. As long as I only focus on today, I won't think of how much of my life has been stolen, wasted, endured.
It's no wonder the last few years are a grey fog which no amount of spreadsheet data will ever bring back.
Yes, as long as I only focus on today, on this moment, I know I can get through it.
Well, it's 6:34 now... It took me longer to type/post this than it did to write it!
But then again, I didn't really edit or anything... It was almost 800 words originally, then I just cut it down to 500.
How about anyone else? Come back anytime over the weekend and post!