Pain and I are well acquainted.

I see your pain and I want to reach out and gently soothe your brow.

It dulls the senses, each breath a struggle. Yes, I know pain. If I could carry yours away I would. I’d pile it high on top of my own. Knowing pain the way I do it would be no great thing for me to do, believe me.

You see, my pain will wax and wane but never leave me, what is a little more? But you unused to this violent surge from overwhelmed nerves racking your system, it is a true and horrid shock. Yes, what a nightmare for you.

For me pain is as usual as being thirsty. I know the pain that has you hoarse begging to make it stop. The kind where one cries, "Just make it go away!" But it won’t.

The body spasms rippling in big knotty surges up and down – never ending it seems – over and over again – past endurance, as I loose my mind.

The body has been cut and sewn back together. Now it screams its abuse. The pain of complete exhaustion, each muscle screaming torment that even rest can’t help with.

The pain so intense no sound is uttered but a whimper now and then to the rhythm of breathing as I lie curled up in a ball on the floor.

I know the feeling of helplessness that comes with trying drug after drug to no avail because of the added suffering from each medications side affects just makes it worse. In the end discovering I can take nothing to really make the pain go away without some miserable consequence in it's place.

The body wasting – eyes sinking deep into their sockets, the flesh hanging loosely, bones protruding. Pain is such an ugly business.

If only I could take it from you I would.