Page 81 of Free to Breathe
“I’m not sure which I’m more afraid of.”
“What’s that?”
“Dying or being trapped in the dark, unable to move because Bryan somehow fucks up what he considers”—I air quote—“easy brain surgery. I mean seriously? Is any brain surgery easy?”
“Idiot,” she scoffs. “I have this completely unprofessional theory. Want to hear it?”
Since Alice is my new BFF, I totally do. “Go for it.”
“Men have a Y chromosome. Therefore, as women, we get to ask ourselves why all the time. Why are they such dumbasses seems to be the leading question.”
I laugh hysterically. Definitely not what I expected to do in this office.
Alice sits straighter in her chair. “What you’re feeling right now is actually common before surgery.”
“I refuse to admit I’m common,” I drawl with a toss of my hair.
Chuckling, Alice continues. “It’s the loss of control. Almost all patients feel it regardless of the procedure. Normally, the doctors can reassure them. Despite what Dr. Moser implied, with a procedure as complicated as yours, we ask you to come to speak with us. Right now, your life is so far out of control, you need to get some of it back.”
“How?” I demand. I stand up, taking the pillow with the fringe I’ve been worrying with me. “How the hell am I supposed to control any of this?” Hurling the pillow across the room, I turn to find Alice smiling.
“That’s one way. Let loose the emotions choking you, good and bad. If you need to throw things to relax, go for it.”
“My sister gave me food to smash.” I remember Cassidy putting the grapefruits and tomato in front of me, and the sick pleasure I felt as I saw them splatter.
Alice chuckles. “Messy, but effective, certainly. Do you remember the endorphin kick you felt after? It’s counteracting the cortisol, the hormone associated with stress.”
Sliding back into my chair, I ask, “What else?”
“Deal with your issues head-on, Corinna. If you think you’ll feel better by preparing for your death, do it. Write letters to your family. Give them to someone you trust to be distributed in the event of something happening. Hell, write them letters for the day of surgery anyway. You’re going to be out of it for over eight hours. How do you think they’re going to feel?”
“Petrified.”
“Take back your power as a woman, as a sister, as a friend, and let them know you’re with them. Address their worries even as you address your own.”
It’s so simple, it’s brilliant.
I jump up and give her a huge hug. “I’m not kidding, Alice. Next time you need a cake baked for any reason after I’ve recovered, you’d better call me.”
“I’ll take you up on that because you’re going to recover, Corinna.” She pulls back. “Dr. Moser is going to get your tumor out, then you’ll recover. And then the world had better watch out for the formidable woman in its midst,” she predicts.
“And to think I was scared to come in today,” I say with wonder in my voice.
“People always are. It’s my job to make sure you’re not on the way out,” she schools me. “Did I do my job?”
“You definitely gave me something more productive to think about. That’s for sure,” I admit.
“Then I think we’re done. How about I drop by after surgery to check on you?” she offers.
With a better outlook than I’ve had in a long while, I say, “I’d like that. I’m sure my family would too.”
“I wouldn’t miss meeting them for the world. They sound fascinating.”
* * *
Decidingto take Alice’s words to heart, I make a detour on my way home from Greenwich and drive to Westport. Finding off-street parking, I make my way into Paper Source. I think about what Alice said about the time my family’s going to be sitting there waiting for me while I’m in surgery, and suddenly, I’m on a mission.
I find a stationery set with a black bear giving hugs, a set with sloths, and a set with peacocks. I immediately snag a set of cards with kittens giving each other a high five. I tear up when I pop the “I can’t imagine this day without you!” set in my basket. I grab a mini set of boxes of “I am thankful for…” cards when I see “The Future Looks Bright” set. In it goes. I’m spending a fortune, and I don’t care.
