poem

 Op Note XV

Before starting we reviewed the risks.  She had many questions.  What about this.  What about that.  We had discussed all this before.  That there could be bleeding that couldn’t be stopped.  That the wounds could get infected.  That she would have wounds.  That there would be marks on her flesh that you could never wash off.  That there could be pain.  The kind that lasted long enough to make you miss it when it finally went away.  None of that bothered her. She asked about feeling better.  But just better, not fully restored.  She didn't want to go back to the beginning.  She took pride in the things that were calloused and semi-broken.  She didn’t want a perfect stride. She had earned her aches and imperfections. She didn’t want a fresh start.  To begin again.  It was all too much pressure.  I couldn’t promise her that.  Once fixed, it’s easy to forget what was even damaged. It’s a form of self erasure. In the end we canceled the case.  We didn’t do anything at all.  There was too much risk.  

1/24/22