April 15, 2011
Pair of weeks had nearly passed since my rendezvous with the scalpel that pierced the lining of my gut, literally. Enduring the pain seemed inevitable, but the chores of maintaining the cleansings of the wound proved to be most vital in this stage. Late into the night as warm hands comfort me, a saving needle lined the dorsum of my right hand just lateral to my snuff box, my legs churning like the cranks of a distant tour, the agony proceeds and I am the eye of the bull. Slowly the trance passes, as an overwhelming uneasiness expands my inside, a feeling I can only relate to what a helium balloon would feel as petty little hands urgently awaits its grasp. As baby steps go, I think each seem to be much larger than what was anticipated. I urged onto the consistency of the days, the same chores and tasks to care for this vessel, but some innately odd predicament I do feel that the spiritual is healing - if not yet the physical. So now I calm myself, I let time do the tolling, I allow myself to a new belief, one for the betterment and procession for a healthier and more controlled self; this time itâs for the long haul I suppose. The drawbacks are common, the adjustments a must, but prevalence is the goal. To the friends and family that have always been the spine that erects me, it is in their love and tenderness that keeps me hunched, standing, stepping, and striding. Bar none.
~Huntington Beach, California