Surgery

Time warped; at once grindingly slow, and likity quick.  We woke before the dawn after intermittant dozing.  From about 3:00 to 6:00 am Sherry and I found a slice of cosmic time.  I had never felt closer though that feeling perserves.  We felt strong affirmation of our commitment to each other, and I gained a deeper understanding of what our marriage is--the "one flesh" clause is compellingly powerful. 

The interval between waking, the pre-operation rituals, and the impending 2:00 pm surgery was surreal.  Would the same Sherry emerge at the other end of this procedure?  How could we normalize brain surgery?  What would the results of the biopsy be?  Benign, slow growing tumor leaving us to return to the comfortable reality of the near past?  Malignant?  What would that mean? 

I waited for the gurney to carry my beloved through the mysterious double doors.  I struggled to keep the thought of the future to rob me of the unfolding now. 

The gurney came.  Sherry was helped onto it, and Mom (Edith Walcott, Sherry's mother) and I walked behind it to the pre-op area.  The extra IVs were skillfully attached, and the initial anesthetic began its work.  As Sherry went into the operating room I tried to project the hope in my heart through the portals.