I have a back injury that will sometimes wake me up at night. Not every night and not in a stark way. I will unthinkingly changed positions and settle into one that will ease into discomfort. Then I wake up.

Its dark, except for the dim glow from the light on the bedside clock. It doesn’t illuminate so much as it just holds its own space. During the daytime, light will stream in past the open curtain, but with no outside ambient light, the window meets darkness on both sides.

Earlier tonight I was awaken by a well pronounced bark from my dog. She apparently felt it was important for me to know about the cat fight taking place somewhere in the neighborhood. I disagreed and went back to sleep quickly.

But back to my back. It’s it chronically painfully during my waking hours. Only recently has it begun to occasionally interrupt my sleep. But it is disheartening nonetheless. I was hoping to have the long-term physically issues resolved. In the 16 months since my accident, I have been on a wild roller coaster ride of the emotions that surface through physicality.

I am about the turn the corner on those issues. A new doctor with a new set of standards of care and professionalism. I believe that moving forward is the only option. There is no backward trajectory for a thinking, feeling human. My life path has changed veered off in a direction I didn’t anticipate, but it is still carrying its own forward momentum.

So I laid in my bed, in the dark, after I eased my body back into a comfortable position. For a brief second, I could feel myself slipping into despondency. The most recent setback of my condition, coupled with a delay to my appointment with the new doctor was a bit more than I thought I could handle. I have had great support from my family throughout this ordeal, but the painful sensations are mine alone to deal with.

And lately the pain has been increasing incrementally. Yesterday was rough which is probably what I didn’t sleep through there night. But all day long, my dog has either been by my side or seeking me out if I was away from her for too long. I like to sit in my backyard but it will get too hot for her, so I made sure to set her up in the shade. Once she discovered her new spot, she laid down until I was ready to go inside.

By my side. More now than before. She can’t really carry the burden of my difficulties. She is only 70 lbs so I cant lean on her for support. But if I could, she would. So as I lay in the dark, trying to escape the hold the darkness was encasing me in, I heard her. Almost as if on cue.

A deep, slumber induced inhale, then a slow relaxed exhale, slipping into some slight snoring. She just wanted me to know I wasn’t alone. That I am never really alone.