Wednesday, April 30, 2014

This Must Be the Place

June 5, 2013
This is the water bottle with the red top. This is my red v-neck t-shirt. This is my pair of dark blue jeans. This is the trash barrel I stuff it all into. This is my contempt.

This is the ambulance. This is the rush-hour and pre-Bruin's playoff game traffic. This is the fear of hearing 'there's nothing we can do.' This is my watch. This is 5 pm. This is the thought that I would give anything to be in my kitchen making dinner for my sons. This is my father at my right shoulder. This is my grandmother on my left. This is the thought that they are here to guide me through my death. This is the prayer to my grandmother, woman to woman, to help me mother my children through whatever is coming next.

This is the longest ride of my life.

April 29, 2014
This is me with my head in my hands, crying for the biting shock of it all. This is my best friend. This is her hand in mine. This is her crying for the biting shock of it all. This is the processing. This is my scar. This is where it hurts.

September 12, 2013
This is the first MRI to check for regrowth. This is my stomach in ropes. This is my cautious optimism. This is the arm with a ripe, swollen vein that the woman can't seem to tap for an IV. This is the bruise she leaves. This is the set of foam blocks stabilizinging my head. This is the table I lie on. This is the noise the machine makes. This is the flashback to June it evokes. This is the hour the test takes. This is the tiny, cold room where I change my clothes. This is the man who comes over that night to rub the day out of my shoulders. This is the floor I sit on while I describe for him the complexity of emotions that day. This is the door he leaves from.

June 12, 2013
This is the white mark on my forehead from the Mayfield pins screwed in to my head to stabilize it. This is the razor used to shave my hair. This is the breathing tube put down my throat. This is the #10 scalpel that cuts my skin. This is the muscle that is sliced apart. This is the drill that bears holes into my skull. This is the circle of bone that is removed. This is the lumbar puncture in my lower back that drains off cerebral spinal fluid. This is the brain tissue lifted and shifted. This is the specimen sent to pathology. This is the muscle removed from above my jaw and patched up on my head. This is the 150 ml of blood that is lost. This is the 5 inch scar that remains.  

June 11, 2013
This is the quiet night.

June 12, 2013
This is me at 6 a.m. This is my kitchen. This is my blaring radio. This is me ready.

April 30, 2014
This is my scar.

This is where it hurts.