I went on a little soiree yesterday. By myself. Packed a bag and drove away.
Looking for solitude, I think. Time to reflect. Reconnect. Mourn a little bit. In less than two weeks, I shall lose parts of me. Preemptive strike, that is my hope. A surgeon will slit my belly and take parts of me out. Uterus. Cervix. Ovaries and fallopian tubes and lymph nodes. Then sew me up or staple me closed.
So I went on my little soiree. And whilst driving on a snowy road, I glanced in the rearview, saw my face. Pulled off the road and looked into my eyes. And I told the person there not to be afraid. The essence of me will still be there.
In the hotel room by myself, I lay on the bed and thought, What if? But one never knows, not until the time arrives and even then, we’re sometimes left wondering. Things happen. This is the stuff of Life.
I am blessed.
I stood in front of the mirror and saw the lines etched there, the pooch of my belly, my curves. I touched my body and closed my eyes.
And said a prayer, that all shall be well with me.