Curled around my girl, light streaming through the window, I thought about that forever of not being whole. What would it feel like to have a partner missing a favorite body part? Forever? Forever is a long time. Even if I loved this person, would I be able to hurdle that? And what does love have to do with desire anyway? Does it make it easier to put it away, that need? Who can I call and talk to about this worry? I flip through my mental rolodex of friends, sorting through and through. My BC tribe are all too close to this, my nonBC tribe can't really understand in the same vein, my male friends I am worried will tell me the truth: that it's too much to think about, that I need to just roll with it and quit the worry, that this is today and tomorrow is something entirely new.
Facebook reminds me today that five years ago this week, I had my mastectomy and that four years ago I was rushed into surgery to correct the correction that came from two surgeries before. My brain sensed it even before I saw the digital proof.
That forever of not being whole, that forever of wholly being, that being of forever. What will that being be?
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