Ania

Embrace adversity, the theologist said.
2 cms long. 163 bpm, there should be another palm in my hand.
2% odds, 15 minutes, 2 seconds to positive,
you’re safe, it can’t happen to you.

Here’s your living curveball,
Here’s your choice.

3 phone calls, 30 blocks, 30 minutes, and:
“You’ll never look back, you have to…
it’s just like getting your teeth cleaned.”
Crushed.
You’ve pinned me to the ground, this is what the philosophers don’t understand:
There’s no choice at all.

God’s deciding, and I’m saying no…
Here I go…

Fill my head with fog:
Hello how are you today.
I don’t want to be here, no one should have to do this.
Signed away who I thought I was on crisp white forms.
You’ll feel some pressure.
10 minutes, 1 valium, 1 deep breath… spinning stars
pressure, pressure, pressure, pressure, p a i n
Painfully aware of what exactly is going through that tube.
Can’t breathe
Stop crying.
You’re smart, you’re strong (then why am I here at all?)
Cold metal exhale, squeeze the nurses hand a bit harder, and
Just like that

This is where the hard part starts.
J’aurais pu.

Here’s me evolving through my loss.

2 weeks, 2 newsprint stained hands, 1 letter
Dear Mr. Editor, reply to article:
“I’m happy to hear about your pain. I’m happy your life is ruined. I never had to make your choice.”
Stinging ripped off band-aid, knife in my gut, pretend you know what it’s like, step into your perfect shoes, click 3 times into your world of the lucky 98%.
My accountability.
My pain.
My peanut.

Just keep going, crawl if you must, but don’t ever give up.
One foot in front of the other, work, wait, work, wait, work…
The fog will lift one day soon.
While you march for life, where I might have been.
Give me your 9 months, your body, your understanding manager, family, career
And STRENGTH.

Don’t look back, just live in the moment.
and in this very one

I’m at the end of my rope
But I’m making a choice
to tie a knot

and hang on.