Trust

I was repeatedly asked whether I had passed gas or had a bowel movement.

Something was moving forward in accordance with the recovery of my intestines.

A drain was connected to my abdomen, and fluid and blood were coming out.

There was so much I did not understand.

Even so, I was experiencing the strangeness of the body firsthand.

“You are doing well,” they told me.

I could not feel what “doing well” meant.

There was nothing to do but trust it.

And believing that this was the best possible course felt like the only thing I could do.