Every night when I go to bed, I pray that I will wake up with a body that works like it should. And so far, every morning, I wake up with a few seconds of pure bliss where I am not queued into reality yet and I don't yet realize what existence I am living in. And then the nausea waves over me and I remember. I remember that I am sick. I swing my legs over my bed and live one more day. A day that I honestly don't really want to live. But. Every day holds the possibility of a miracle. I have done a really good job of knocking down the doors of medical science and getting myself the best available care for my medical conditions, and now it is truly in God's hands. And so I continue to pray for a miracle, each day holds that possibility. If that miracles never comes for me, when I finally get called back to heaven and can be free from this body that seems to be fighting against me in all of my waking hours - I wonder if I will get to pass on my unused miracle to someone else. Maybe I will get to pick them. I hope I will get to pick someone with gastroparesis.
