I awaken from the kind of sleep most women dream about..
Especially after kids and menopause.
It's a beautiful delirium...
I dip back into slumber then reemerge to the light
A few more times
When I'm prompted to peek through the blinds of my eyes.
Suddenly a high school friend appears and reintroduces herself
As my recovery room nurse.
"Of course, I remember you,"
I squeak out as the sedation wears thin.
"How long has it been?"
"Were we 17?"
We catch up on years gone by as I become consciously
Aware of groans and beeps nearby.
Fear and hope hang with help on IV poles.
Syncopated sounds of resuscitation then jubilation
Sober me awake.
And now,
Here I am,
Second chance still soldered to my humbled heart.
But I am done talking about cancer.
It's no longer the star of my show.
I see my illness as a wake-up call
Divinely designed to remind me
Of my one precious life.
And I choose to remember it this way.
On August 21st, I celebrate my rebirth-day.
Today, I am 17-years-new,
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