Eventually,
the tube inserted in the anus was removed.
I realized how much it meant
to simply sit.
The next day,
the abdominal drain was taken out.
Walking became easier at once.
When the IV needle was removed,
it became even easier.
I could turn in bed
without thinking.
Then,
food was introduced.
A light recovery meal.
Still,
I ate it slowly,
with care.
Rehabilitation progressed.
Stairs felt uncertain,
but I could sense
that I was returning to daily life.
Friends came to visit.
Before I knew it,
I had more to carry
than when I arrived.
They helped me with that too.
The nurses.
Their attentiveness,
their perception,
their action.
All of it
as part of their work.
When I told them my preferred discharge date,
it was accepted.
At every moment,
I was being helped.
Eleven days in the hospital.
Each day,
my body changed.
I stepped outside.
The air.
Better than I expected.
The sunlight
almost brought me to tears.
There was no explanation.
What this experience has given me,
I still cannot say.
The thought of trying to gain something from it
comes and goes.
I let it pass.
It was,
at least,
a clear pause.
Like a bookmark
placed in the middle of a story.