Welcome to the Pain Exchange

WELCOME TO THE PAIN EXCHANGE Skyler Novak

“Please sign here for your withdrawal.” I heard a receptionist tell a customer as I sat in the waiting room. I had heard that word passed around a couple of times as people had come and gone, it felt a little weird hearing the staff refer to their products as “withdrawals.” I looked down into my hand as I gripped one of the Pain Exchange’s brochures. I didn’t know why I was so nervous, it’s not like this was going to kill me.

The wait was long but I finally heard someone call my name. I hesitated in my chair as my name was called again. “Riley Young?” I shot to my feet and walked up to the receptionist. She wore a blue polo with a name tag that read “Rachael.” She greeted me with a bright smile and said: “Welcome to the Pain Exchange, what can I do for you?”

I stumbled over my words, “I don’t actually know. This is my first time here.” Rachael perked up at the opportunity to give her speech.

“Well, there are two procedures we offer here at the Pain Exchange. The first one, a patient will come in and pay us to remove any ailments that may be causing them distress. From headaches to cancer, there is very little we can’t do.” She paused for a moment and pulled out a pamphlet bigger than my two-page brochure. It felt like she had rehearsed it at least a hundred times. My heart was pounding in my chest as she rattled off more information.

“The second is what we refer to as contracts. It’s kind of like getting a loan at a bank, except instead of paying us back you take on one of the ailments we store here in our facility.” She started pointing at different charts. “The simplest is our class one, these are things people can heal in a matter of days; headaches, colds, 24-hour bugs, things of that nature. Class two takes a little more time, but the payout is more substantial. These are your broken legs, lacerations to the flesh, things tend to be a little more gruesome here. The third class is things you may never recover from, cancer, advanced stages of pneumonia, nerve damage. While these are the most severe class three has the highest payout of the three.”

Rachael was sure to take note of the interest painted on my face while looking over the price ranges. “May I ask what it is you are trying to finance?” I looked up at her again, her smile had yet to wane. “My friends and I are trying to fund a ski trip up north.”

Her eyes sparkled with excitement. “That sounds fantastic, well if I may make a recommendation, it would be a class two broken bone. It would take a few weeks to heal, but the payout should be enough to cover your finances.” I couldn’t tell if she was taking advantage of my naivety, but a few weeks wasn’t all that bad. Basketball practice didn’t start until next month, I should be fine. At worst I would miss out on maybe a week or two of warmups and drills.

“Do you have any questions while I draw up the paperwork?” She asked.

“Uhm, how does this whole thing work exactly? Will I be able to purchase a cast and some crutches to help get out?”

Her smile waned for the first time in this conversation. “Unfortunately we do not offer equipment for sale outright. We can either take it out of your final balance or we can offer you a care package.” I raised my eyebrow and my facial expression must have asked my question. “The care package simply states that if you agree to add a class one to your contract we will handle all basic medical attention for free.” I took a moment, I was a little frustrated at the fact that their system was filled with so many clauses, but on the other hand, the care package sounded like a deal someone wouldn't easily refuse. Rachael displayed the contract before me on the counter.

“If you could please sign here for class two, and if you are interested in the care package please sign this second page.” I looked at the second page and felt bitter, to me it felt like she knew that I couldn’t pass up the opportunity and that she drew it up in advance. When in reality they probably had copies of the care package in bulk at their station. Still, I lifted the pen she presented to me as if it was the most delicate object in the world and observed as black onyx ink spelled out my name, Riley Young.

Her smile had returned at the end of it all as she said “Here in a moment, you will be shown into a doctor’s office. There you will receive your two products. Once the procedure has concluded and you’ve received your medical aid you will also receive your payment.” Before I could ask any further questions a man in a white lab coat approached me. He too was wearing a smile.

“You must be Riley.” He said

“News travels fast,” I responded as I stood up to greet him.

“We try to be as accommodating as we can, my name is Dr. Beels and I’ll be your operator for today.” The lobby looked and felt like a hospital, but all the staff presented themselves cheery and helpful. It had a strange atmosphere that everyone coming in weren’t patients. They were clients. The doctor gestured for me to walk with him down the hall. “I heard that this is your first time visiting. How are you liking it so far?”

I walked alongside him for a moment before I answered. “To be honest it feels a little weird. Ya know? Coming in to get sick in order to make a little extra cash.”

Dr. Beels chuckled under his breath, “It is weird, but I’ve gotten the pleasure of helping a wide spread of clientele. You would be surprised at how many young people come in so they can get a leg up in the world.” His words made sense and the idle talking was calming my nerves. I remembered seeing advertisements on buses, billboards, all through the city. The Pain Exchange was marketed as a second chance clinic.

We came to the room and Dr. Beels opened the door for me, and talked about service. Inside it was just like any other medical examiners room. There was that bed thing with the extra large toilet paper, a chair in the corner for your mom to sit while her baby gets examined, and a

sink where Dr. Beels was washing his hands. This was probably the most normal thing I have felt since walking into the building.

The doctor finished washing his hands and put on some rubber gloves. “While we wait for your products, may I ask why you decided to come in?” He asked this while he sat down in the “mom chair.”

“Well, I’m on the basketball team at school. Come to the end of the season we are wanting to take a trip up north. I’ve already started looking into it and ski trips are expensive, more so than I am able to raise at my part-time job. So, here I am.” There was a sudden knock at the door and I nearly jumped off of my seat. The small talk was a nice distraction, but the nurse walking in and handing the doctor a stainless steel tray with two needles on it snapped me back to reality.

“Well, Riley, which would you like to do first?” She asked me before picking up any needles. I could feel my heart pounding and a lump formed in my throat.

“Let’s get the tough one out of the way. I think the longer I draw it out the more freaked out I’ll become.” The doc nodded and opened the first container. He injected the needle into the top of the vial and drained out this crimson liquid. The contents of the vial filled about half of the needle and he paused as our eyes locked. Without saying a word I could tell he was making sure I was ready for what was coming. I gripped my seat and nodded.

Dr. Beels sterilized a section of my arm. He injected the contents of the syringe into my shoulder. It was so quick that I didn't even realize he had finished. I let out a sigh of relief when the pain caught me off guard. Tears welled as I gripped my lower leg. Within moments, I watched as a bruise bloomed on my leg like an orchid. Taking swift deep breaths was all I could do to prevent myself from screaming.

It felt like hours passed before the pain became manageable. The clock on the wall told me that only fifteen minutes had passed.

Sweat formed around my brow and my heart was running laps. The doctor sat in the corner and took notes as my breathing steadied.

“This is always the hardest part of the job,” he said as I was blinded by his flashlight. “You may feel drowsy as your adrenaline slows down. Do you have a reliable way home?”

I nodded in between deep breaths. “Yeah . . . I have a friend picking me up.” I tried moving to readjust myself into a more comfortable position, but any attempt to move my leg was met with an electroshock of pain through my body.

Another moment passed before the doctor asked. “Ready for the care package?” He was being nice in making sure that I was ready to continue, but the timing plastered an expression on my face that probably read, “Are you serious?”

He took my silent expression as his cue and prepared the next injection. Once again he sterilized my arm with a cold cotton swab and injected the contents into my bloodstream. The

first shot didn't feel like anything, but I swore this one stung. A sting to remind me of how illprepared I was for this.

We continued our conversation from before as he outfitted me with a cast and measured my crutches. By the time the doc got to handing me my payment, my nose was stuffy and I had an itch in the back of my throat.

I had walked in with a clean bill of health and am leaving with a broken leg, a cold, and a check for $3,000.00.

I made it outside and didn't see Scott anywhere, so I sat down on the bench. I watched as people walked in and out. Exchanging their cash for health and taking pain for cash.

An obnoxious honk rang from the circle drive, I could see Scott waving from the driver's seat. I situated the crutches under my arms and made my way over to him. Scott waited outside with the door opened. He helped me get my crutches into the back and made sure I was situated before closing the door.

“So, I gotta ask.” He said hopping behind the wheel.

“What was it like?” I knew he was going to want to know.

“I mean I've yet to go in, but I've heard talk around school about people walking away with hefty sums of money.” We pulled out of the circle drive and I could see how excited he was to know someone who had actually gone.

“Yeah, it was alright,” I said, mostly to tease him

“Alright? Is that really all you're going to give me?”

“I would like to think the results speak for themselves.” I held up the check and Scott glanced over at it as we merged onto the highway. He kept side glancing and each time his face dropped farther and farther to the floor.

“Three thous-..? Are you kidding me? Just for a broken bone?”

“And a cold,”

“A cold?”

“It was this care package thing that allowed me to get the cast and crutches.”

“Still, not a bad deal. I may go in some time, myself.” I could see Scott beaming with excitement.

Some time passed in silence and we drove past a billboard with an ad for the pain exchange. “Yeah, I may go back again myself if I ever need it.”

After a couple of sneezes, Scott asked, “Do you think you'll be healed up before the start of the season.”

I shrugged. “Dunno, doc said I’ll be healed in a little over a month. At most I may miss the first week or two.”