Today has already been remarkable. A Bowen therapist invited me to her place for a treatment. She has a property on top of a mountain, with a view guaranteed to stun. I haven’t felt so relaxed in a long while. We chatted and laughed, and she remarked that a red-breasted finch was on the windowsill as I lay on the treatment table. I was humbled by her gift this morning, as I am to see a neurosurgeon this afternoon.

Try as I might, I can’t escape the fact that this isn’t any old appointment. I wouldn’t be going to this surgeon  if it weren’t for a series of events, a long time ago. I patted the scars dry after my shower this morning. I told my friend, the Bowen lady, all about what had occurred for me to be on her treatment table. I survived, yet the legacy lives on. A day off work for my husband. $220 to see the medicine man. I feel like I am back on a ride. A teacup ride. It promises to be a harmless kiddie adventure, though when the operator sees me, he spins and spins and spins that teacup. I am still spinning. A man broke me many years ago. Today is a part of the journey toward having a future. Surgery may be required. That’s okay. I surrender my anger, my indignation, and accept the unfairness. I feel calm. A Bowen practitioner worked on me this morning. A finch landed on the windowsill and peered into the cabin. I met her goats and saw a vista. I am at peace. I am ready for my appointment.