I officially told the boys we’re transitioning out of morning birthday balloons. I wasn’t referring strictly to the balloons per se, but more in regard to the production that has been involved these years with the kids and birthdays. The birthday sign, chalkboard drawings, balloons, photo albums, and in some years when I thought of it, Dollar General plates and napkins.

The transition actually began several years ago, when on January 6th I was in the ER. I had not put anything up for my son and for the rest of that year the days were thrown off. It was simply one long endless night. I sometimes wish I would’ve written more here, but there was nothing to say, nothing new to report. I would write when I was better and could endure the screen light.

That was another weird symptom that I had. For as tired as I was I couldn’t sleep. I would lie in bed awake. By the evening I would feel as though I was on the verge of a seizure. Mid-January through March were truly the worst. It didn’t feel like I was going through hell, but more like a more comfortable outer suburb of it. I praised the Lord when I’d finally taken nap.

I sometimes wonder now if it was a side-effect of the medicine. The problem was that I needed to take it. It was the only thing that brought any relief in that it made being conscious tolerable. I told the doctor it was like being in pain, except it wasn’t pain, it was some vibration in my nerves, some indescribable state that no one could give me an answer as to what it was happening.

At times things return and I get discouraged: The shortness of breath and fatigue upon walking. The shaking in bed when I lie down at night is still always there. Two times today this Psalm, “Then I thought, ‘To this I will appeal; the years when the Most High stretched out his right hand. I will remember the deeds of the LORD; yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago.'”