Recovery room

It was a hell of a series of preparation. But what held me down was not the burden of keeping time until I had to take the next tablet, the next liter of Gatorade with 4 sachets of powdered laxatives, or 1 tablespoon more of medicine. It was my mind trapped in a black cloud. I was practicing a new religion that day but my faith remained weak as ever. Until, at dusk, a strong sense of purpose came upon me. Out of nowhere, a new possibility suddenly felt possible. On my way to the hospital, I heard the woman next to me in the jeepney hum what sounded like a lullabye, felt like a voice soothing. After all the fuss and the flurry---a Grab fare up to P500, no Uber in sight, a taxi cab asking for a top up on the meter, liquid intake by 930am when I should have been fasting since 2am---I found myself in the operating room of St. Anthony, IV on my right hand, heart and BP sensor on my left, oxygen on my nostrils, and finally asked to turn to my left side. They say you may have found the solution to your problem, when you finally see it from afar, for what it really was---in my case, a black cloud of anxiety that was preventing me from seeing the view of a sky that was blue. Everything was going to be alright. That's what you've been telling me since last night. I hope to always remain heedful of you, Mi.