So 'the zone' has been mapped out. The all too familiar area in my chest where I was blasted as a child...
They will go in and burn away the layers - the theory being new cells will grow back.
A new chance. There are all sorts of official stats that I am not going to read. The words morbidity and quality of life have been bandied about.
I just hear "a new chance".
They can burn once or six times. I'm in it. I'm nasty. I'm in the mood to get it done. I've left the pity for myself behind. Deal with it, Joe. Deal.
Stark reminders have a habit of showing when you least expect it and most need it.
It was the end of March. She was just 9 years old. A diminutive, piano playing daughter, with her whole path before her, a life yet to be lived, died on a Thursday.
Most in my area will know of the accident - a tragedy in every sense. There was no blame, no protagonist to point a finger at. There were only victims.
A wake of people forever changed. A ripple that resonated for many and spoke too loudly for many more...
For other Survivors, this was a reminder, not a harbinger. This isn't a telling of what is to come. This is a statement of what life really is.
Moment to moment, until the universe deems the end of all moments. Snapshots put before you to savor not ignore. A feast if you can inhale all of them...a famine if you let the moments slip away.
Some of us wallow, and I confess that I am one, too long in our own personal circumstance. When you pick your head up and look around, you can at least say you have a fighting chance fore you can pick up your head AND look around.
You are in the colosseum of life. You wield a knife, even a dull one. There is a puncher's chance of getting out of this. There is a chance...slim or great - a prospect, or probability.
For the 9 year old girl, there is no more drum beat. There is nothing save for a fading undulation in time.
In a few weeks, I go in for the burn. Knife in hand. The colosseum doors open once again.
There are definitely stats on success and failure. It all speaks to be given a chance.
To walk at dusk. To stare at the stars. To hear a park full of laughter. To breathe.
For that, I am thankful. We all should be.