So often on Sundays I can feel the hard operating table beneath me
It’s a sudden, aching cold
and I keep squeezing the hand holding mine my fingers numb from a week of pounding my fists
Blood pumps back into my hands and I gasp
sensing the fingers surrounding mine finally
I can feel that strong, warm, supporting hand again
I can feel the knives again
But this time I can hear their purpose
called out
As they are brought down again to meet flesh inside my chest
I’m briefed again for another 7 days of healing and reopened wounds