Non-fiction's not always an unhappy story

I’m telling her story, the woman who experienced drowning -
or what she recognised as drowning when life flashed through mind within a few seconds in a hospital room. Unexpected news, grave, and not carefully explained. Her swimming head grappling worst case scenario printed on shocked faces. They stared at her, these faces, waiting. Waiting for her reaction, not expecting her questions. Answers came with bends to them, they seemed like tunnels to go down from which there’d be no escape.
In her drowning moments, her family swished back and forth across her consciousness, as wipers swish across a windscreen. Short time, no time; time is short, no time; family, short time; family, no time;
how much, is time?
We all die it’s just that sometimes the timing doesn’t fit into preconceived ideas of how a 2011 year was supposed to pan out. For her anyway.
After the news.
Her days and nights seem altered forever – for what her forever would be.
She entered beyond the veil of surreal – and in the night when she woke her consciousness seemed ‘out there’ , somewhere between the living,
and the dead.
She went automatic, seeing to loose strings and planning for – journeys.

Angels, busy behind scenes, worked delicately to make a wise move.
Appointments arrived quickly via mail. How much is time ?
Depends.
Hope, seems to give an impression of great amounts of time.
She saw the surgeon the behind the scenes ‘angels’ found for her through their ‘speciality’, their measures of good management.
The surgeon appeared to her to be as just the right sort of angel; he told her all she needed to know, and that is, the facts, exactly how it is. It’s serious yes. But the good news is the 50/50.
And when she heard the bad 50 might not happen for 10 years, she almost cheered, at the least she grinned her cheering smile. Ten years ! Anything can happen in 10 years; she might be killed crossing a road, so what ! This, was wonderful news ! She immediately changed up a gear to top positivity.
After that, steps at a time, no info overload, scans and tests, life all good, preparation sensible, actions into plans, plans into actions. Smiles for the world, meals for the freezer for homecoming after surgery. Self expression confessed gratitude and luck. Second chance waved like a winning flag. Scans were windows of opportunity. Forthcoming surgery spelt lifesaver.

Operation over, she was back home, grateful but feeling vulnerable, off -balance by drugs, concentration stuffed, too sore for bed, sleeping in a recliner a great option, rest bliss for all moments. Housebound, cryptic puzzles to exercise brain.
Visitors lovely. Exhaustion came after. Flowers cheered. Cards spoke love. Family – family wonderful, no words could describe.
The surgeon? He phoned. Good news. All clear.
And before long, she’ll be visiting a site called RedBubble, more often than in quite a while. There’ll be time enough.

Non-fiction's not always an unhappy story

Del Millar

Joined November 2007

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Artist's Description

Friends will know ‘her’ identity.
Thank you for your prayers and messages.
Love to all.

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