A History of Pain

I'm sleeping.
My mind is in that half asleep half awake state where it knows it's sleeping.
I am dreaming of my days in Jafet, my youth group. I am hoping I don't wake up.
But then I hear a voice...
"You have to eat, baby; you haven't eaten in two days and you are declining." my mom says. She wants to take me to get hospitalized.
I'm fully awake now and the pain train arrived. It came rushing in voraciously to every corner of my body. Only when I am asleep I escape this reality of hurt that is now full on my reality.
"Why did you wake me?" I cry. "Why? I am in so much pain."
Mom rushes to the pharmacy to get some Ensure to make sure I at least get some nourishing.
I lay in bed not even able to cry. My eyes shed scales instead of tears and the skin around my eyes is burnt and cut.
I can't scream in pain either. My throat is damaged from throwing up and from the dehydration in my mouth and the burning in my esophagus from all the meds.
I'm terrified of eating. Everything I've eaten the past four days cramps my stomach adversely and sends me running for the toilet writhing in pain.
The pain is so unbearable my husband brings a hot water bag to put in my stomach every few hours. He always warns me of not putting it to my skin that hot, but I never listen. I already have burn marks on my belly.
I usually reject pain medicine and take it only when I can't stand it no longer. This time, I've been popping pain killers earlier than the recommended 6 hours. They help me go to sleep again.
I haven't seen the girls the past four days. I make an effort to lay in the hammock in the yard to at least see them play. Kaylee lays with me and falls asleep. Poor baby has missed her mom badly. Emmalee is happing asking me to watch her ride her big-girl bike.

I am so grateful my husband insisted on purchasing this hammcok
 a few days before my chemo round that left me broken.

The nanny moves Kaylee to her bed and my husband is massaging my legs.
I'm drifting back to sleep.
"Thank you, Lord. Make me sleep. Make me sleep as long as possible. Make the days go by asleep so I won't have to face my pain again."
It started raining. I feel some drops falling on me. If I say something, my husband will move me inside. I can't move. If I do, I lose the sleep spell. I lived this woken moments just to get back to this state; I can't lose it. I can't lose sleep's grip and relief from the nightmare that is being awake. The sleep spell wins and I fall asleep. "Thank heavens."
I wake up. The pain jerks me out of sleep.
"What time is it?" I ask hoping the day moved forward and it's closer to being over.
Turns out I only slept 20 minutes.
My heart sinks in dismay.
Mom and Rodol take me to the hospital to meet with the oncological surgeon to talk about my next surgeries.
The wheelchair ride is enough to leave me nauseated.
It feels like my insides are battling to become my outsides and I am a second away from bursting.
The hubs keeps massaging me while waiting for the doctor.
I want to scream and cry, but I can't.
I just utter a soft "Help me."
"Help you how?" my mom asks. "Do I take you to ER. What do I do?"
"Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me." I sound like a broken machine. I am a broken machine.
I fear the doctor will be late like all doctors are. The doctor arrives five minutes after that thought.
He is taking forever talking my medical history with my mom.
"Just give me something. Treat me! Treat me! Treat me!" I'm yelling in my mind.
Finally I let go an audible moan.
He listens and finally agrees to give me a pain patch for oncological patients.
"Thank God it's not something injected or intravenous."
I ask my mom to run to the hospital's drugstore to purchase it.
They didn't have it. Only special pharmacies carry it.
We go to one but the prescription the doctor gave us is incorrect.
It should be a special green form that authorizes such strong narcotics.
At this point I am telling my mom I am willing to try Marijuana.
The pharmacist knows my mom and can clearly see I am a cancer patient in desperate need of pain control. He agrees to sell it.
For such a "strong" narcotic, I was expecting relief. The pain no longer feels like it's going to kill me, but it is still there, the hurt.

To the Cross, Linda! You must take it to the Cross.

Isaiah 53:2-8
He grew up before him like a tender shoot,
and like a root out of dry ground.
He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him,
nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.
3 He was despised and rejected by mankind,
a man of suffering, and familiar with pain.
Like one from whom people hide their faces
he was despised, and we held him in low esteem.
4 Surely he took up our pain
and bore our suffering,
yet we considered him punished by God,
stricken by him, and afflicted.
5 But he was pierced for our transgressions,
he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was on him,
and by his wounds we are healed.
6 We all, like sheep, have gone astray,
each of us has turned to our own way;
and the Lord has laid on him
the iniquity of us all.
7 He was oppressed and afflicted,
yet he did not open his mouth;
he was led like a lamb to the slaughter,
and as a sheep before its shearers is silent,
so he did not open his mouth.
8 By oppression and judgment he was taken away.
Yet who of his generation protested?
For he was cut off from the land of the living;
for the transgression of my people he was punished.

When I was little I always wondered why God couldn't find another way to save us that didn't include Jesus suffering. I understand a little better now. Jesus not only knows what I am going through and has lived more pain than I have, He did so to understand me and really hold me. He did so for my sake. Oh beautiful Cross to run to!
Last night I was thinking how His mercies had been renewed in my day with such a day. 
Then I walked across the room and saw Emmalee sleeping soundly on her bed. Her blanket had fallen so I picked it up and tucked her in.
I walked towards Kaylee's bed. She is sleeping with all her hair in her face. I move it back to reveal a gorgeous, peaceful sleeping face. These are my mercies. I must seek them in dark days. 

I thought of the grieving Dad who lost his precious daughter. What are his new mercies from God each day? He was created to live in mercy, hope, and above all love. God's mercies to him sit next beside him in his living and also grieving wife that holds him. I pray he finds mercy, hope, and love in the memory of his precious, the hope of his Almighty, and the love of his wife and family. 
We can't live in pain. We learn to live through it, but we must strive to have mercy, hope, and love be what we live in. 

I pray your pain takes you to the Cross too.

Here is a video I made for my husband for our 6th anniversary. Excuse my recording ability. I had just had chemo and did this on Garageband on my ipad.


  1. Rezare todas las noches con mi hija que tiene la misma edad que las tuyas y enviaremos nuestras mejores energias y positivismo para tu recuperacion aunque no nos conozcas te enviamos un abrazo :)