No decision

No decision

It was sucked out of me. Just like that. Snap. So long. Bye bye. It was gone forever. I stared up at the white ceiling, and felt nothing. I heard buzzing, as the doctor held down the button next to my chair, raising me back to an upright position. He told me to remain seated for a few moments, and then I could leave. He said to call him if there were any problems.

I sat up in a daze, then closed my eyes again. I practiced my relaxation breathing, a technique taught to me a few therapists ago. In deep through the nose, feel my stomach extend as my diaphragm is pushed down, exhale slowly through the mouth. As if that made a difference.

A few minutes passed, me sitting in my paper robe, legs exposed, feeling a slight shiver run through my back as the cool air coming out of the vent above me tickled me all over. I listened to the hum of the air conditioner as the air blew over me, using the noise as my focus point, so that I could clear my head of everything else.

I opened my eyes as the door opened, the nurse coming back to check on me. She gave me instructions as to post-op care, then said I could get dressed and leave. She walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. I slowly rose from the chair, peeling my sticky skin from its plastic cover. I threw my sundress on over my head, then my cardigan sweater. I slipped my underwear over my feet, then tore open the pad lying on the counter, sticking it on. If anything remained, there it would land.

I looked at myself in the mirror. Tall, thin, long blond hair. I looked like Barbie in my powder blue sundress, with its white laced collar and lace trims along the bottom. I was Barbie to everyone around me; little did they know what I had just done.

I strolled out of the exam room, out the office door, then out the front door of the medical building. I picked up the phone, found Dylan’s name, and clicked “call.” “Hi, baby,” he said, sleepily. “Hi,” I said back. We chatted on for a few minutes; we discussed our upcoming wedding, our excitement for our honeymoon, and the life we’d have together. “I’m so excited to be married to you,” Dylan uttered. “Me too,” I uttered. And even as I felt the blood leaking from my underwear, sliding over the pad, and down my leg, I knew that I truly meant it. I walked on down the street, chatting with Dylan, feeling bliss defeat agony as the wrestling match came to an end in my heart.