From Friday through this moment, I have been sporting a rather vicious headache. It is ever present and quite painful. I have taken pain medicine, rested, and slept with cold compresses over my eyes. I find myself clenching my jaw against the pain, which only makes it worse.

What worries me is that the year I was diagnosed, I suffered this same sort of headache from May to October.

The joy of God's grace and the happiness at the victories have helped, but it has been difficult to keep my spirits up beneath the weight of this constant pain.

Tonight, I am abandoning my long-standing firm belief that milk should only be consumed ice cold. I am about to toss back a glass of warm milk and crawl into bed, thinking of non-headache thoughts.

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Note: Last night, I struggled to fall asleep because of the pain, so I threw back the covers, fetched a pair of scissors, and tended to my much-neglected bonsai. When I was finished my pruning, I watered it, breathing deeply of the damp earth. While I savor the cold and wish it lasted far, far longer than it does here in the nation's capital, I do miss the oneness that comes while working with the soil.