it aint rocket science
Tuesday, November 10th, 2009The same floor. The same chair. Shift change.
I know the rhythms of this ICU. Twenty minutes until the nurses will let me in. Twenty minutes. Until.
It’s just a building. Just a building, a floor, a unit where my mother drew her last labored breath.
This time, I am here with joy in my heart.
My sister’s tumor is gone. History. Dead tissue in a lab somewhere, long gone from her body. Divorced from her brain.
She’s talking. Asking for the dog that’s brought new life to our home since the two of them arrived Saturday night. Moving her arms, legs, fingers, toes.
Healing.
Rumor has it her neurosurgeon is going to write a case study about her. Because my sisters and I, we are strong like you read about in medical journals.
And it ain’t rocket science. But it sure was brain surgery.
