Sometimes I wish that rather than having this extra time before surgery to “process”, I could go ahead and just get it over with.
There is something hanging over these days – an anticipation, a dread, a fear – that is always with me.
I know that it is way out of proportion, but I compare it with how a condemned man must feel when he knows his execution date and time. I watch the calendar, and know that the time is counting down.
I think of the soldiers and civilians who are wounded in war, and then carry and live with their wounds all of their lives.
I wonder about physical woundedness. And yet here I am whole, seemingly healthy, with a body that I mostly love and cherish.