*Background: I had another MRI and meeting with my neurosurgeon this morning. Just a check-up thing that will happen for about 8 more years, just to be safe.

I finally stopped crying. Praise Jesus. I haven’t cried over physical pain since I was in the hospital last year, and that was when I was hooked up to monitors and such a few days after surgery. After that there really was no point in crying over any physical pain because how could an every day thing hurt worse? But today I broke. I got home from my MRI and appointment with my neurosurgeon and curled up in bed and just cried. Not because of sadness or whatnot, but because the pain was so extreme. I haven’t felt such intense pain since right after surgery.
Not gonna lie, I was a little upset with myself for crying. I’m stronger than that. I can take it, no matter how much it hurts. But I wasn’t expecting this pain today. With surgery you obviously know pain is coming, and even then I had morphine that they say helps (lies). Today it was me, myself, and I battling with all I had in me. I can’t begin to explain to you how bad it hurts. My left hand felt like 100 needles were being stuck into it repeatedly, thank you nurse that messed up my IV and then attempted to fix it. My left arm close to where my elbow is doesn’t bend since the IV finally went in there. My scar is majorly acting up after the MRI this morning and it feels as if someone is inside my head with a hammer just pounding away at the scar, waiting for it to bust open. And my eyes are on fire, possibly because of the little test he did to see if something else is wrong with me (Guess who gets to go to another doctor now. Yay.).
I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. When the pain is bad enough for me to cry, after the pain I’ve already gone through and only cried over once…well it’s pretty freaking bad when I cry now. My head still feels like it might explode, but ever since I realized something the tears have stopped.
I leave for Panama tomorrow morning. Satan doesn’t want me or anyone else on this trip to go. And for me personally, he’s taking spiritual warfare a different route this time. Perhaps because I haven’t felt the pain in so long, or perhaps because he knows I’ve finally figured out how he gets to me emotionally, and have learned to watch out for it.

He has to find another tactic, and he found it.

Spiritual warfare has, for me, turned into physical warfare. I can’t function with this pain. I lay in bed tossing and turning and trying not to grab my head. Getting up and doing anything functional seems impossible. How is being in that condition going to bring glory to God in Panama? It’s not. So I’m up. I’m out of bed and going on with my day, working on stuff for college, and slapping the devil in the face screaming ‘You don’t get to win today.’ I will go to Panama and I will stand out in the heat and I will perform to the best of my ability. I will stand up and share my Story of how He healed me and saved me, even if it means I have nothing left at the end of the day. Even if there are tears streaming down my face from the pain as I share about my Jesus.

Sorry Satan, you don’t win today.