Cryday
Dearest,
One year ago today, I spent the day pacing the halls of Lenox Hill Hospital. Worried about you, scared that I might lose you, frustrated in my impotence. You underwent twelve hours of surgery. About eight in the evening the Dr. came out and pronounced the surgery an unmitigated success. He pronounced you “cancer free. I went into the recovery room to visit just a bit. I told you the news and held your hand. You started to cry, I told you not to cry, not to be upset, and I felt so guilty for making you upset.
Today I have been remembering, nay, reliving, the events of that day. I have been weepy and sad , distracted and lonely. I had a vivid dream during my nap, you were in it but I don’t remember much about your part. What I do remember is that the answer was at the bottom of the computer screen. I awoke before I could read it. In a panic I rushed to the computer and examined the screen in detail. There was no answer there, what was the question?
I have been anxious and distraught all day, as if I’d forgotten something, missed something, neglected to do something. What have I forgotten?
In the recovery room I held your hand and told you not to cry, there is no recovery room for me, no one to hold my hand and tell me not to cry.
Your Ken
One year ago today, I spent the day pacing the halls of Lenox Hill Hospital. Worried about you, scared that I might lose you, frustrated in my impotence. You underwent twelve hours of surgery. About eight in the evening the Dr. came out and pronounced the surgery an unmitigated success. He pronounced you “cancer free. I went into the recovery room to visit just a bit. I told you the news and held your hand. You started to cry, I told you not to cry, not to be upset, and I felt so guilty for making you upset.
Today I have been remembering, nay, reliving, the events of that day. I have been weepy and sad , distracted and lonely. I had a vivid dream during my nap, you were in it but I don’t remember much about your part. What I do remember is that the answer was at the bottom of the computer screen. I awoke before I could read it. In a panic I rushed to the computer and examined the screen in detail. There was no answer there, what was the question?
I have been anxious and distraught all day, as if I’d forgotten something, missed something, neglected to do something. What have I forgotten?
In the recovery room I held your hand and told you not to cry, there is no recovery room for me, no one to hold my hand and tell me not to cry.
Your Ken
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