Chronicles of the night before

I woke up this morning with a cloud of dread hanging over me. My thoughts quickly counted how many times I woke up for a wee last night. I gently brushed my arm over my chest. Slightly tender, but not as sore as the week before. They come and go, that's what I've been told.

I made my aspirin concoction as prescribed, downed it along with some more tablets, and had a bowl of cereal. I waited for nausea to strike, but nothing other than an almost imperceptible queasiness, probably more from thinking about it than anything else.

I am scared. I am afraid to walk down those corridors. I dread that uneasy silence whilst they poke and probe. What will it be this time? How will it turn out? Hope is a good thing, but it's also a scary thing.

It's 20:54 and I'm in bed. I've been yawning since 7pm, tired and sleepy but as soon as my eyes close, tears escape.

I re-read Isaiah 55:8-13 tonight. They kept me going when I was stranded in the Philippines, and once again, when we lost B. They sheltered my dying fire of faith from totally fizzling out when I last had a mis arrange.

Tonight, i’m holding on to the promise of going out in joy and being led forth in peace. Tonight I'll be praying until my brain is too tired to think.

Maybe tomorrow will be a day for the books, in however form it will take.