The Battle
Here I am again- silent and terrified in the midst of this bloody and never-ending battle.
This constant struggle between two diseases vying for control of my body.
I fight with weapons old and new- with potions, pills, wires, shocks and prayer.
The medicines grant relief-for a time, a short reprieve from the fight, hours gained to live a bit, but with a price, knowing that I must fight again.
In truth, there is not enough morphia to win the battle, only to hold it back for a time.
Wires and shocks also grant relief.
But still, the fight goes on.
I long to surrender sometimes, to let the diseases win, but the spirit within me and all my prayers tell me that is not an option.
And so, I fight on. I crawl upstairs, dragging my broken and battered body through the field of battle and I curl up on a bed and pray.
I pray for the battle to cease and for rest and strength to face what may come.
Though the battle doesn’t cease, I hear a voice telling me to put the armor on, not to waver, but to fight on, and with His armor and His strength, I will win.
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