Beautiful Pain
"Not again," I whimpered. I doubled over with the pain. In that moment, I think I finally broke. My spirit matched my body. I stared up at the blue, crocheted pot holder we had hanging up on the bathroom wall. I recall the chevron pattern clearly, although most of my other memories from that time are far and few in-between now. I remember asking God to just take me then and there. I didn't care where I was going in the afterlife, I just needed the pain to stop. All hope of relief dissolved with the next wave.
