The Gift I Needed Most

I didn’t expect to spend the day before my 40th birthday flat on my back in bed, in agony, praying for relief.

But then again — life with trigeminal neuralgia doesn’t come with a calendar.

Yesterday, the pain was a 10 out of 10 by 9 a.m.

Excruciating.

Sharp.

Full-body panic kind of pain.

I couldn’t distract myself.

Couldn’t breathe through it.

Couldn’t pretend to be okay.

I called Dr. Sammi and asked him to get me into the ER.

Instead, he suggested a muscle relaxer and called in a steroid — prednisone. And honestly? The muscle relaxer helped. Not in a “yay, I feel great” way… but in a “I can finally lie still and acknowledge the pain without feeling like I’m going to shatter” kind of way. That was the win.

Then David showed up.

He finished work as early as he could, sat in an hour and a half of traffic, and came straight to me. I called in a panic and he immediately moved his schedule to get to me. No expectations. No fanfare. Just presence.

He ordered us poke bowls, because I hadn’t eaten. Poke is one of the few meals I can handle on bad pain days — the texture lets me swallow everything whole if I need to, and the rice gives me the calories my body burns through trying to survive.

And then… we went upstairs. Nope - not that…

He rubbed my head.

My neck.

The base of my skull.

The tiny, screaming muscles around my jaw and shoulders and down into my SI joints.

He didn’t talk.

Didn’t ask me to feel better.

Didn’t try to distract me.

He just met me there.

Held me. Rubbed the stress out. And stayed.

For hours, we just laid there. And for the first time all day, I didn’t feel alone in the pain. That — that — was the best pre-birthday gift I could have asked for.

Not balloons. Not candles. Not putting on a performance and pretending I was okay so I could “celebrate.” so everyone around me feels good.

Just someone to show up in the mess.

To be still with me.

To ease what could be eased.

To make sure I ate.

To make sure I felt loved.

I turn 40 tomorrow. And yeah — I wish my body felt better.

I wish I could wake up pain-free and go run through a sunflower field or throw glitter at brunch.

This wasn’t the plan. I was supposed to be in Japan this week. My dad and I had started planning the trip last year— our favorite mutual passion - sushi. The dream was to eat sushi together in Tokyo, to celebrate my 40th with the real thing: the rice, the ritual, the red snapper straight from Tsukiji.

But I’m too sick. My body said no. And instead of boarding a plane, I stayed home — curled in bed, eating poke delivered to my door, while trying to breathe through the kind of pain that makes even dreams feel far away. But what I got was even more sacred: I was witnessed. I was cared for. I was met exactly where I was.

That’s healing.

That’s love.

That’s my kind of celebration.

With Love,

Dana & Nicky.