After the fluid was sucked from my brain, other systems crashed. A bag on my leg, helmet on my skull. They said I could forget about walking. And then my sister came in, full of our secrets. “Remember when I taught you how to pick a lock? Pick this one.”
Cheryl Snell lives to tell the tale.
Love this!
Just beautiful. Well done, Cheryl.
Thanks so much, L.J.!
Thanks, Mary!
I don’t understand.
It’s about one woman having a bad outcome from brain surgery, and her sister trying to urge her to find her way out of her predicament, like a Houdini.
This irks and uplifts me at the same time! Well done :-)
I’m interested in that irksome part, but thank you!
I’ve been trying to post a reply to this for some time now, and for some reason it never registers when I hit “enter”…so, one more attempt:
What I meant was that I’m irked by imagining being in the narrator’s physical predicament. It’s viscerally described.