Concerto of Pain

| 5/27/2014 12:57:00 PM

Tags: Life, Work, Chores, Pain, Injury, Allan Douglas,

Of Mice and Mountain MenA single, high, prolonged trumpet blast shatters my blissful bubble of sleep. Was that Gabriel? Is it time?

Alas, no. As consciousness replaces confusion, I find that the blast was not sound but pain – which can be similar – and the trumpeting is emanating from my right shoulder. Now that I am more aware, my neck and upper back begin playing harmony to the lead trumpet in a horn concerto of pain.


I attempt to mute the performance by shifting position. But that only boosts the volume.

I am cold. It was hot when I fell asleep and I covered only with the sheet. Now it’s cooler and the muscles in my back and neck are tense from the chill. I pull up the quilt and wrap it around me. In a few moments the harmonies fade, but the lead horn continues blasting its lilting tone.

I reach for my watch: 3:30 a.m. A groan offers bass counterpoint to the tenor lead horn, which continues to strip away the grogginess of slumber. Twenty minutes pass and other instruments are joining the melody of madness. Hips, lower back, an elbow chime in. A tooth throbs in low accompaniment.

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