Cold. I was waiting but I’ve changed my mind. The whole world fell away, left just me/us and it felt OK. All the stuff I thought mattered; age-gap, gossip, housing, education- when it was just me/us- it didn’t. (she’s awake) For a moment we were everything. It was beautiful. I love me/us- even with complications pushing into my mind, cramming themselves around me/us euphoria- I’m not making an Angel today. Going home. (what’s she doing?) Jelly legs aren’t working, feel hot and slippery. She’s holding me down. (Sshh- you’re fine, just a bit woozy) I don’t believe in Angels. Crap. (it’s the anaesthetic, makes them cry)
I wrote blast-off and re-entry after reading "Moondust" by Andrew Smith. Astronauts' descriptions of feelings during and after space travel, remind me very much of experiences with anaesthesia. And obviously, a cup of tea makes everything right again.