Wednesday, 11.22.06

I got up early, had my dressing changed, strapped my tummy up, and headed to the bathroom.
For the first time since the surgery, my body is strong enough to take care of herself.
I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and towel-washed my body.
I want them to treat me as a person, not a patient.

Whimpy moments still persist.
My stomach turns and my eyes well up when fear invades.
I don't let it advance and conquer.
I took a good look at myself in the mirror.
I repeat in my mind,
I'm strong.
I'm smart.
I'm mature.
I'm intelligent.
I understand what might be waiting ahead,
and I think I'm ready for the worst.
I just need a bit of time to prep myself.

Back in my "room" I looked around to decide where I should start tidying up.
Folding the covers and clothes is such a care-taking gesture.
I've gotta be strong for those who are being strong for me.
Just like I needed them to hold me up on my feet the day after the surgery,
now they need me to help them stand still.
I'm a person, not a patient.
Whatever the doctor is telling us today,
I'm not gonna take it lying down.