So I do this quasi-performance-art-exchange-of-narratives-club-thing at school. We call ourselves the Rubber Duckies - don't ask, there isn't a story behind it - and we craft these performances for various assemblies and events for the school. Anyway, here's the piece I did last Friday.
Seven. In case you are wondering. It’s seven. The number of times I can say the Lord’s Prayer in one minute. Seven.
Why do I know this?
Because I’m stuck here. In a hallway surrounded by what appear to be very large vending machines filled with medical supplies like intubator kits and IV bags, forceps and sterile gauze, waiting. For her to be prepped for surgery. And from here it seems, I can do nothing, but watch the clock. And pray.
It’s not a big surgery. Not one of those moments from a primetime TV drama where some renegade, but likable, doctor is going to swoop in at the last second with some absolutely genius way of removing a live hand grenade from a man’s chest cavity.
No.
It’s a planned c-section. One decided on in a small room, in a calm and rational manner without threat to either the mother or my daughter.
My daughter – that’s odd to say. Don’t get me wrong, I really wanted to have kids, but to be a parent, that’s something I’m still not sure I’m ready for.
Huh.
It’s funny, you know, because here. In this hallway. Legally. Technically. She isn’t my daughter yet at all.
But here I am, trapped between triage rooms and pre-sterilized scalpels, praying. For something that isn’t even born.
Just thought I'd share it here since I'm apparently too uninspired to actually blog.
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4 comments:
It always amazes me how well some people can put experiences into words. I'm not one of those people. I don't consider myself artsy or creative. I prefer math and science and other things where there is a right and wrong answer, a right and wrong way to do it. But I am always in awe of those who can do something like take an experience and make you feel like you are not only there, but actually in their head. Thanks for sharing!
I like it! More, please.
Beautiful. My hands started shaking all the way up to my shoulders once I realized you were praying pre-surgery in the hospital...having done plenty of it. I could almost smell the halls. What I love most is knowing the Happy Ending. :)
Speaking as one who actually saw you perform this.... well done. I've been playing with the idea of writing my own every since I saw your first practice, so maybe this will inspire me to get on that.
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