it was early morning, at the explosion of dawn when, as usual during the 3-day hospital stay for my mastectomy, i was awakened by my roommate’s television. she slept during the day and kept her light and television on all night. this actually didn't bother me. somehow i knew she was having a difficult time. other than her occasional, soft moaning she was very quiet. the muffled conversations that i could hear from behind the curtain with her doctors were strained and discouraging in tone. i would gather from them that her recovery (the nature of her surgery remained a mystery to me) was slower than "expected". i never actually saw her.
i awoke with a crisp clarity of my surroundings: seeing my iv bag and behind and above it- the stream of muave country roses that rippled just below the ceiling on the wallpaper border. basically alone in this room i became intensely aware of my presence and being grounded in the moment. metaphorically i would say i was standing on the edge. right then. right there. a clear vivid view of falling apart and staying solid lay before me. i turned to look out of my window and was met by a clock tower across the east river. the sun bore through it to display a sky bursting with burning orange and that icy winter january blue. a silent voice cradled me. it had birthed from my heart, my guts, my soul and deep from my conscience to rescue me. "stay cool. just stay cool" she said.
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