Ever wonder where your mind goes during a three-hour surgery sedation? I’m here to tell you I have an exquisite recall of the event. My surgeon begs to differ, but I briefed myself before the propofol ran wild, causing my left arm to freeze before blowing apart.
My manual communication went unnoticed as masked humans sliced new incisions and wrestled out the old implants. I could hear muffled voices discussing the scar tissue of eleven years of wear, just when my cancer was at a crossroads.
I wanted to clean up the room, jigsaw my arm remnants back into the shape of a limb, and drink coffee. I wanted to go swimming at Kepuhi Beach on Molokai, topless, skip my implants atop the water, and let the mermaids play dress up, ready to claim their identity.
That’s when the sea maidens gathered around my bed and took turns reconstructing my arm. Their luminescent eyebrowed tentacles chimed as they swayed around me, never hesitating to moan in a melody so comforting, so soothing, so indicative of their whale gods.
Before the tide subsides, I am welcomed into their nautical world. Do I leave this all behind? The scar-tissued implants, the diminishment of femininity, and the need for caffeine? They’ve transformed my arm into a fin, a sign of acceptance, a vice for survival, how can I not?
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Want to read more from Suzanne Nielsen? Get your copy of Face Up: A Collection of Outlaw Poems today! Buy now on Amazon
You are also encouraged to come listen to Suzanne Nielsen read from her recently published essay from Oleb Books’ latest title, Accessing Parenthood: Stories by and About Parents With Disabilities, on October 22. ASL interpreting and captioning will be available for this free virtual event. Register to save the date now!