Shannon was going to bed around his usual time, and he always sleeps better if we adhere to our usual cuddling ritual, so I got into bed with him, planning to get up when he fell asleep & spend the night down in the living room, hurting & trying to distract myself as best I could.
He took me in his arms, and he stroked his hand along my arm, and I stroked my hand along his shoulder, and we talked softly about nothing important. We touched each other's warm skin and breathed quietly together in the darkness.
And then I woke up to morning light coming through the windows.
My head was still hurting terribly—last night's headache wasn't gone—but I'd gotten 8 hours of sleep, 8 hours of escape from pain, 8 hours of respite, because Shannon held me until my emotional comfort was stronger than my physical pain.
If someone were ever to make my journal into a movie, it would be a sappy love story. Shannon saves me every day.
Back in June, my mom told me that I shouldn't tell her about my health issues anymore, just to let her know when "big stuff" like the cataract surgeries was happening; and I realized this morning that she and I have different definitions of "big stuff." Daily pain from which I have no escape, but which can be fought with loving comfort ... that's pretty big stuff in my book. I'm very lucky to have Shannon on my side.
