Pain

As a child, I suffered from severe stomach cramps. My stomach would wrinkle and crunch like an accordion and then stretch out like a rubber band about to pop. The pain would radiate from my belly to my thighs to my belly and then wash all over me, and I would lie motionless in a pool of nausea. 

Besides medicine,  I developed ways to deal with it. Curling up in a ball. Walking back and forth. But most of the time, I would gingerly sit down on our sofa and rock back and forth until the pain fled. In my mind, there could be no feeling worse than this. The stings and bangs and aches of the body were tiers above any other type of damage. 

But then I grew up and experienced pain that I didn't even know existed. 

Bruised feelings. 

Broken hopes. 

A cracked heart. 

I remember one evening where my emotions were in complete disarray. I felt like I was suffocating.  Hurt and sorrow and joylessness were piled, one on top of the other. 

They were crushing me. 

On the phone was my sister, who was trying to lift them. She somehow made sense out of my breathless tear-laced phrases and said, 

"You are emotionally exhausted.

Take a shower and lie down."

 So I did. I laid in my bed with tears sliding down my skin, choking on this pain, praying that relief would come soon. 


I used to think that one was worse than the other. 


Not so.


In all its forms, pain hurts. 

Dollar

I was louder than usual. I was bolder than usual. But the statement was so jarring that I had no time to censor myself. 

"You did what?"

 My coworker Bernard repeated himself, reciting it once again with no shame. 

"I bought salmon from the dollar store."

He smiled nonchalantly and nodded his head. During a shopping trip, Bernard had decided to take advantage of a great deal and purchase some dinner, stuffed salmon, from a dollar store. His previous food purchases from those stores always ended well,particularly when he bought one of his favorite snacks, Fig Newtons.


"You could get a whole fig in one bite," he said, his eyes glazing over at the memory. 


 I appreciate the financial relief that dollar stores bring but I'm scared of buying anything from there that I have to chew, absorb or ingest. 


Their items cost a dollar for a reason.

 "So, how was it?"

Bernard began to laugh. When he got home and began to prepare the salmon, he made a disappointing discovery. 


There was only an inch of salmon meat. More than half of the "salmon" was breadcrumb stuffing.


What have we learned? You get what you pay for.