Media-crity

It’s been a year since I was brought back from the brink.

My memory of that day and the days that follow is hazy at parts. I’m still struggling with the idea that I went through being carried out of my home by EMTs, a CT scan, an arterial line, and a catheter being inserted and have no memory whatsoever. I still struggle with the idea of how close I came to losing it all.

Instead, though, I try to remember how fortunate I am to still be here. To have made it to one year later. I remember the kindness of the nurses. Combing my hair, removing a psinful IV in the middle of the night. The flowers. The stack of cards.

The chance at a do-over.