“I can’t breath,” I mumbled as I sprung straight up the bed at 4:46 a.m.
It felt as if two hands had been placed around me neck and squeezed tightly. My heart was beating like I’d run around the block. Sweat beads were glistening in the middle of my chest. And, the corners of my eyelids began to moisten as a sense of hopelessness rushed in.
The pain never ends, I thought as a stabbing sensation began in my stomach and hip joint simultaneously. The procedures to keep me functioning “normally” are endless and are draining my finances. I volunteer my time to help others but my chronic pain has forced me to cut back. I can do very little to help my aging parents or myself. No wonder the ever present hole in my heart keeps growing despite my prayers for relief.
I rubbed my temples as the negative thoughts caused the pressure to build inside my head. The throbbing veins near my eyes made it hard for me to keep them open. I shut my eyelid and began breathing deeply. I knew my self-pity was triggered by the knowledge that I was just hours away from my fourth back procedure in five weeks with two more to follow.
I drifted off for three more hours. When I woke up, I told myself that I’d fought too hard and spent too much money to improve the quality of my life to give in to doubt and sadness now; the courage to soldier on must prevail.
I got up. I got dressed and I headed to the Hospital For Special Surgery.
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