Friday, July 22, 2011
100 Words: Pain Is a Wall
She stood carefully, deliberately, slowly, testing the integrity of her feet to hold her. Her face twisted into a grimace as she bore her own weight. I held her arm to steady her and give support, but she pulled away to move toward the bathroom gasping and crying with each halting step. Finished, she returned to the chair.
Wrapping her ankles didn't seem to help. She returned the chair to its position for TV and focused on the screen closing me out. The pain was a wall that she breached rarely except for necessity--pain medication, meals, or bathroom visits.