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Show 274 wishes her ill. It's just that I am wishing myself well. I am traversing in emotional circles. There seems to be no solution to these unpleasant feelings. "It's amazing how alike and yet how different you are," she is saying. "We both have red hair," I am saying, hoping a bland statement of fact will diffuse my unease within. She is nodding in agreement, checking the IV line for air. I lie back in the bed, watching the drip fall from the bag into the cup, from there to descent into the line attached to my porta-cath. Maybe this series will work. Maybe it will work so well that I will be able to unfold my legs and unbend my arms. Maybe I will then someday soon simply walk out of this hospital room. As if it were the most natural thing in all the world to do. |