Still Healing

The tension on my forehead is building, as the stitches close tighter around healing, as I take a deep breath in, I am reminded of the extraction, the removal of cancer from my skin, the precise cuts, the sting of numbing agents, the steril smell of room as I entered, and the smell of burning flesh when I exited, the conversations I had with the doctors, as I was conscious throughout the cutting, I looked at the wound, making me want to puke, since I could see the open blood on my head, but I could not feel the effects, the dissociation of medication taking over the natural ability to feel pain, I wanted to know that I was the one being cut into, I needed to see the evidence that I was the one having cancer removed, I wanted proof that this was happening to me, because I had not processed it yet, I had taken it as the unexpected event, embraced the spontaneous timing of it, forgotten that I was the victim in this, I am the one who needs time for healing, I am the patient in the seat, I needed pictures to prove that I was hurting, an excuse to take time for healing, to listen to the doctor’s recommendations, to take my time, to be gentle to my body, and allow myself time to process, despite this being a long time coming, I knew I should have worn more sunscreen, I knew that I was acting irresponsibly, I knew I did this to me, that I would be in the doctor’s seat one day, taking my own recommendations, to finally practice being healthy.