he stumbled up the stairs on all fours

He winced. Gasping in long breaths of air. Focusing on something else helped with the pain. But he couldn’t continuously keep sucking in air. When he let it out, the pain rushed back in. He winced, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Then he thought of people who suffered from far worse, broken arms, burns, death. And no more years came out.

He made it home, grabbed the shoes, and stumbled out. Each step was a walking nightmare. The air was cool, but he didn’t feel it. The pain was consuming every move. He thought about the dogs. He needed to open them. Water from the fridge. Normally, he could finish an entire bottle in under a minute. His stomach churned as he went through half of it. He put it aside, then thought better of it. He managed to force the rest down his throat. He got up, put some water in a large bowl, then put it in the freezer. Then he lay next to the sofa, on the marble floor and put his feet on the sofa. “Ugh”, he got up and walked over to the glass doors to the back lawn where his dog was whining and pawing at them. He opened them as she ran around him, jumping on him, trying to get to his face. Too weak to swat her off, he settled with a “please don’t. It hurts.” She continued, unperturbed. Usually, that brought joy to his face. Right now, the pain blotted out any thoughts. He walked over to the other two. They had also finished their food. He opened each of them, taking much longer than usual. Then he stumbled back inside, barely managed to close the door, and then back to his spot by the sofa, which was marked by a shadow of sweat.

He crawled up the stairs on all fours, which though it provided some relief from the pain, it was not enough to make it not painful. Standing back up on two feet as he got to the top of the landing, he looked over to the door he was supposed to go to. Then he slowly let himself down on the floor and lay there for a while. The pain was mind numbing. No smell, no taste, no touch. Just pain. Present in its merciless form.a few minutes of lying there, and he thought he was ready to make the trek of a few steps to the door. He managed to open the door, wincing through and with the pain. “Are you back?” A drowsy voice from the bed. He almost whispered. “Yes.” “Why’d it take so long?” “I ran more.” “How much more?” “A little.” He was floating. He had not known such peaceful sleep in ages. Floating on clouds. Dreamless. Black. Beautiful. Not a care or a worry in the world. It’s strange. You don’t realize you’ve passed out until after you wake up. And all those descriptions of it aren’t true. Because in the moment, you can’t tell.