5:30 a.m.


It’s 5:30 in the morning and I’ve finally given up the battle for sleep.  I’m running my second hot bath in the last 6 hours, trying to get a little respite.  I am in serious pain at this point.  The headache and bone and joint pain from the shot for my white count are just unbearable.  I don’t know how to deal with this kind of pain.

Having had fibromyalgia for so many years, I thought that I was pretty well set to deal with pain, but this is on a whole other level.  I feel like someone is trying to tear my body apart limb by limb, and explode my skull from the inside.  I don’t have an inch that doesn’t hurt, and because of the liver problems, I am very limited on what I can take for pain meds.

And now my soul is poured out within me; Days of affliction have seized me.  At night it pierces my bones within me, And my gnawing pains take no rest.  Job 30:16-17

Hear me, LORD, and answer me,
for I am poor and needy.
2 Guard my life, for I am faithful to you;
save your servant who trusts in you.
You are my God; 3 have mercy on me, Lord,
for I call to you all day long.
4 Bring joy to your servant, Lord,
for I put my trust in you.

5 You, Lord, are forgiving and good,
abounding in love to all who call to you.
6 Hear my prayer, LORD;
listen to my cry for mercy.
7 When I am in distress, I call to you,
because you answer me.

Psalm 86: 1-7


3 thoughts on “5:30 a.m.

  1. viv christopherson

    Kim – My heart aches for you, I wish you could just give one of us all the pain for awhile so you could have some relief & rest. Praying for you always, your strength & faith amaze me.
    Love Ya Viv

  2. Cheri

    I’m sitting here with tears in my eyes hoping that they will somehow help ease your pain. I doubt that it will do much good, but I’m there with you, hurting on the inside, and looking forward to a couple days from now when you’re on the upswing again. You’re more than 1/2 done!! You CAN do this. I hope you can fall into an exhausted sleep very soon.

    Love you!!

  3. grace haas

    I am so terribly sorry, Kim. I had hoped you would escape the intensity of the pain this time, all the while knowing this is a part of the cancer and cure. But I am your Mom, and I don’t want this for you. I am praying you are getting some sleep today. I love you.

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