by Larry Puls, @larrypulsauthor
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| Personal Reflections Before My Cancer Surgery |
Unsympathetically, the alarm clock blares. I wake, perplexed. How early is it? Studying the face of the clock, nothing registers. I rub my eyes... Three fifteen am. Then unexpectedly,
fear sweeps in and pervades me. Reasons for the early morning hour come flooding into my
head. Surgery is only five hours away.
Stubbing a toe on my way downstairs, I catch myself before falling. My legs wax unsteady. Rounding the corner to the kitchen, I turn on the lights and see my note. There is no coffee in the maker and I cannot
have a cup today. Grrr. My shoulders shrug. I have nowhere else to go but to the kitchen table, where I sit. There in the window is a reflection of a woman who doesn’t really
look like me—and yet I know that it is. How did I get here, in this place, in this
predicament? I arrive at no answers.
