The sink felt cool and solid beneath my shaky hands. I steadied myself over it before looking up into the mirror.
All tagged surgery
The sink felt cool and solid beneath my shaky hands. I steadied myself over it before looking up into the mirror.
She called him Peeg. He was a stuffed pig born at IKEA, on a trip when I needed candles and she needed distraction.
During my three-year-old daughter Daisy’s eight-hour transplant surgery, I imagined lying beside her on the operating table whispering, “Mommy loves you.”
Resisting the urge to peek at my defined abdominal muscles, I ripped an oily chip into quarters and apprehensively put a piece in my mouth, taking a deep breath.
She doesn’t have long. Has a finite time to search while her son’s surgeon does his best or, possibly, his worst.
I unclasped the bra hooks behind my back in a cold room with flower art and silver tools.